


All Through the Night

by blancafic, LibbyWeasley



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Co-Written, Dream Sex, Dreamwalking, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Mutual Pining, Season/Series 02, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-07-18 03:48:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16110170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blancafic/pseuds/blancafic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibbyWeasley/pseuds/LibbyWeasley
Summary: While working undercover at Hydra, Jemma acquires a mysterious device and begins having vivid dreams of Fitz. But what if they aren't just dreams?





	1. Jemma

**Author's Note:**

> This story will feature alternating POV chapters, beginning with Jemma. All Jemma chapters were written by blancafic, while LibbyWeasley wrote the Fitz ones.

“Miss Simmons? _Miss Simmons_.”

Jemma looked up from the molecular analysis she was running to find the weasel-like face of Kenneth staring her down. When she’d taken the assignment to go undercover, she’d expected to find a nest of vipers and neo-Nazis infesting the labs, but some of them seemed almost decent on the surface. Except for the fact they worked for Hydra, of course. Kenneth was not one of those people. He was rotten, through and through. She hoped she’d get to see the look in his beady little eyes when he found out what she’d really been doing there all this time.

But for now, she had to keep up appearances, so instead of curtly reminding him he ought to be addressing her as _Dr._ Simmons, she put on a friendly smile and said, “Good morning, Kenneth. How can I help you?”

“I have a new project for you. Something I think you’ll find a bit more challenging than what you’ve been working on so far.”

“Oh?” She tried not to sound too eager. The incident with Donnie Gill should have proven her loyalty to Bakshi, and thus Hydra, but afterwards nothing had changed. Her work was still limited to low-level blind samples and simple molecular analysis. It was tedious, yes, but more importantly it didn’t allow her to do much to help her team. If she could prove herself to the higher-ups, they might give her more sensitive projects and access to valuable intel. And she needed that. She needed to know that the sacrifices she’d made for this blasted mission were worth something. “That sounds exciting. What’s the project?”

“This.” He held out a black box about the size of a Rubik’s cube, but with rounded corners. It was covered in a mesh-like material, giving it the appearance a portable speaker or perhaps a high-tech air freshener. There was a round hole in the top and beside it a row of unmarked controls. She’d never seen anything like it before.

“What does it do?” she asked, unable to curb her natural curiosity.

He set the box down at her workstation, along with a thin file folder. “That’s what we’re trying to find out. All we know is that it has something to do with undetectable communication over long distances. You can imagine how useful that would be. But our engineers can’t figure out how to operate it.”

That wasn’t surprising. Their engineers were surely idiots compared to _her_ engineer. The thought brought her back to the beginning of the road that had led her here. The memories, both fond and painful, nearly overwhelmed her. But she couldn’t let it show. Striving for what she hoped was a neutral expression, she examined the box closely. 

“But I’m a biochemist,” she said, once she could trust her voice to be steady. “What can I do?”

“This opening seems to be a reservoir of some kind.” He pointed to the top of the box. “Possibly meant to contain and emit a specific substance. We need you to identify it. It’s our only clue.”

“Oh, I see. Looks like there are traces of a powdery residue on the surface. Perhaps some sort of aerosolized compound?” Her habitually inquisitive mind was already working the problem, sifting through the possibilities and coming up with tests she could perform. Before she got too carried away, though, she had to force herself to slow down and remember where she was. If the box could do what Kenneth said, she wasn’t about to hand over an instruction manual to Hydra. But maybe there was something she _could_ do with it.

“Where did you say this came from?”

He paged through the notes in the file. “Um. Originally developed by a private research company called Consolidated Tech. Now defunct. Then S.H.I.E.L.D. got hold of it and locked it away in the Fridge. And now it’s ours.”

She noted the disdain in his voice when he mentioned S.H.I.E.L.D. and the pride he took in his organization’s shameless larceny. Kenneth really was the worst. But if the device did belong in S.H.I.E.L.D. custody, it was her duty to return it, wasn’t it? After figuring out what it did, of course. There were all sorts of practical applications for covert communication, not the least of which was an ideal way to pass on secrets while working undercover.

Jemma spent the rest of the day testing the residue. She was able to rule out the most obvious poisons and hazardous chemicals, as well as any potential radiation. But the process of elimination was slow. If only she knew more about the box itself she could determine what exactly to test for. In her experience, the most significant breakthroughs came from a cooperative understanding of technical _and_ biochemical components. Without the other side of that equation, though, she had to make up the difference herself.

After setting one last test to run overnight, she began cleaning her workstation and packing her things to leave. Glancing at the inscrutable black cube, she made a quick decision. Her bag was equipped with a hidden pocket and a special lining Fitz had designed long ago to fool airport scanners. It was intended to hide an ICER for her protection, but also happened to be handy for smuggling out sensitive technology in order to examine it away from the prying eyes of Hydra’s surveillance cameras. She made a show for said cameras, pretending to place the box in a drawer and then knocking a stack of documents onto the floor so she could slip it into her bag amid the commotion. She had no trouble getting past the guard on the way out, who smiled and wished her a good evening. She smiled too, and not just for the guard’s benefit. 

At home, she made a more deliberate effort to uncover the box’s secrets. She didn’t have any tools in her apartment, but she examined the surface looking for leads. She pressed the buttons to see if there was any change. At one point she heard a high-pitched noise, but she wasn’t sure what combination of buttons had made it do that. She kept working as she waited for her usual take-out meal from the Chinese restaurant on the corner. She worked through dinner. She worked until her eyes grew heavy and her yawns more frequent. 

By the time she crawled into bed she was no closer to an answer. She sat the box on her nightstand, giving the project a rest for now, but not giving up. Her last thoughts before drifting off to sleep were of Fitz, and how he could have cracked it in no time at all. At least, he could have before. 

That night, she dreamt she was back at the Academy. She found herself just outside Professor Vaughn’s classroom, of all places. She didn’t remember much about the class. She was far more interested in the biology and chemistry curriculum than the dry subjects he taught. She loved a challenge, but the only challenge in Professor Vaughn’s class was staying awake through the lectures. How ironic, then, that she would come back here in her dreams.

Curious about what lay beyond the familiar double doors, she pushed through them. A class was already in session. Professor Vaughn stood at the front of the lecture hall, droning on in a voice that sounded like he was underwater. The lesson on the blackboard looked like a discussion of Newton’s First Law of Thermodynamics, which was odd since that wasn’t even his department. 

Her eyes scanned the hall, populated by generic students all paying rapt attention to the professor, and immediately landed on Fitz, seated in his usual position, on the aisle near the back. Only it wasn’t the Fitz she remembered from their Academy days. He looked just like he did that dreadful day in the pod. His arm was in a sling and his face was covered in angry red marks. He spotted her instantly.

“Simmons,” he said, keeping his voice down so as not to disturb the lesson. He didn’t seem surprised to see her.

She moved further into the classroom, taking a seat in the row in front of him. He looked her up and down, taking in her appearance, and she realized she too was dressed as she’d been in the pod, though she wasn’t sure when that had happened. She gripped the flat wooden seat back with two hands, twisting so she could face him. 

Focusing his eyes somewhere near the front of the class, he began talking as if they were already in the middle of a conversation. “I wonder if anyone knows how many lives were lost when the Academy fell. Do you think they kept track?”

“Oh, I’m sure there’s a number in a file somewhere. If the rumors are true and Agent Weaver survived, she would have--” Before Jemma could finish, one of the cadets a few rows away turned around to shush her, holding a pale finger up to her blue lips. Her forehead was marred by a single bullet hole, clean and precise. Jemma let out an audible gasp. At the sound, the other cadets turned around in unison to join in the shushing. All of them had the same bullet-shaped wound in the same location on their foreheads.

Fitz didn’t seem to notice and continued, “How many of our classmates were Hydra, do you think?”

Registering the question, she turned back to him. “Not that many. Certainly not as many as Operations. Hydra tends to recruit scientists already established in their fields.”

Fitz wrinkled his nose, as if he’d just smelled something awful. “So all that teasing, the dirty looks, the whispered conversations. Those were the good guys?”

Jemma wanted to laugh at his logic, but bit her lip instead. “Would it make you feel better to know the worst ones were Hydra?”

“Maybe. Is that terrible of me?”

“No. It’s understandable. Some of them were positively horrible to you.”

“To _us_.” He met her eyes for the first time since she’d sat down. There was so much raw emotion there. It reminded her that as much as she wanted to feign surprise when she’d learned about the true depths of his feelings, she’d seen it written on his face a thousand times. She was the one who decided not to do anything about it.

“You got the worst of it, though,” she said with a frown. “I think I got off easy because I was a girl.”

“A beautiful girl,” he said, and a surge of warmth passed through her. He usually avoided commenting on her appearance in the waking world, and when he did it was rarely such a direct compliment. ”And it didn’t do your social status any favors to be hanging around me all the time.”

“I didn’t care about social status. Not if it meant throwing you over for a pack of morons, comparatively speaking. Besides, they were just jealous.”

“Exactly my point.”

If it was possible to blush in dreams, she was probably doing it right now. “Of our _partnership_. Either one of us could have run intellectual circles around that lot on our own. But together? They never stood a chance.”

“I never stood a chance,” he said quietly, turning his gaze to the seat back in front of him.

Though she knew this Fitz was merely a figment of her subconscious mind, she couldn’t resist the need to comfort him. Instinctively, she reached her hand toward him and was surprised to find his knee. They were no longer in the classroom, but seated cross-legged on a bed, facing each other. She recognized the scene as his dorm room, sometime during their final year, by the looks of it. Their appearances had transformed to match that era as well. Though only a few years had passed since then, he looked so much younger.

“You remember the week of graduation?” Fitz asked, looking down at her hand, still resting on his knee.

“Some of it. There was a lot going on that week. It’s kind of a blur.”

“We were in this room. Sitting just like this. And I asked you what you were doing after graduation and you said you’d decided to take the job at Sci-Ops.”

“Oh yes, I do remember that. You hesitated and then you said you were going to take the job too.”

“Yeah. I had to cover because . . . well, I didn’t really mean it in a big-picture sort of way.”

She thought about how he’d looked at her that night, the expectation on his face, and the way he’d rubbed his hands up and down his thighs as he asked her about her plans. He’d been positively buzzing with nervous energy. And then she’d told him about taking the job and it had all evaporated in an instant. “Wait, Fitz. Were you asking me out that night?”

He winced. “Trying to. And failing miserably, apparently. Then I realized we would be working together and it was probably a really bad idea.”

“I wish you had,” she said, her tone laced with melancholy. “Asked me out, I mean.”

“You know how I can be. I hate change.” 

His words brought them both to the hold of a quinjet on its way back from Portland not too long ago. The past was catching up to them, and this moment she remembered with aching clarity. He was gripping the straps of the jump seat so tightly his knuckles were nearly as white as his color-drained face. She’d just called him out on his behavior toward Trip, as if she didn’t know exactly what was behind it. She didn’t miss the way Trip looked at her, and the way Fitz looked at Trip when he did. In another lifetime she might have been flattered by Trip’s interest. She might have even been interested in him too, if not for Fitz. But there _was_ Fitz. And he was looking up at her with terror in his eyes.

“Oh, Fitz,” she said, flipping down the seat next to him so she could sink into it. “That’s _life_. Everything changes. It’s the Second Law of Thermodynamics. Entropy in an isolated system--”

“--increases over time. Yeah, I know. But . . .”

He couldn’t find the words to go on. His eyes were red and teary and she had that strange feeling again, the desire to make it all somehow all right.

“Not all change is bad. Sometimes it’s exactly what you need. And I think, deep down, you know that as well as I do.”

“Jemma,” he began softly. Then he turned his head and panic spread over his features. “Jemma!”

The side of the plane opposite them suddenly blew out. The rest of the fuselage followed, flying away in pieces, until there was nothing around her but open sky. She was falling. Above her, and growing rapidly smaller, she could see an open cargo door. It wasn’t the quinjet any longer, but the Bus, and she knew she’d just thrown herself from it. The wind whipped her hair and the cold bit at her skin as she plunged down, down, down. So it was that dream now. 

As she had in real life, she soon felt strong arms grab her and a sharp jolt on her leg. But when she looked up, expecting to see Ward, she saw Fitz instead. Surrounded by a corona of sunlight, he looked like an angel. Her angel. She’d meant it when she told him he didn’t have to jump out of a plane to be her hero, but she couldn’t deny the rush that she felt as they floated down to the water together. Her subconscious wasn’t very subtle.

When they finally met the blue expanse of the ocean, time shifted again. They were back in their pod clothes, treading water. Well, she was treading water. He was floating, but not lifeless as he had been before. His eyes were open and he was staring up at her. This was the point where Nick Fury had appeared and pulled them to safety, but there was no rescue on the horizon this time.

“I’m so sorry,” she cried, her tears indistinguishable from the splashes of saltwater on her face. “I should have found another way.”

“Why didn’t you just leave me?” Fitz choked out, his voice course and water-logged.

“I couldn’t,” was all she could say.

“But you did,” he said. 

Then he slipped from her grasp and sunk beneath the waves.

Fitz woke with a start, gulping for air. Though he was safe and dry in his bed, it felt like his lungs were filled with water. His heartbeat was racing. It wasn’t the first time he’d dreamt of drowning, far from it, but it had never felt so vivid before. Parts of the dream were already starting to fade, but he went over what he could remember: floating in the water, skydiving to save Jemma, the plane, his dorm room, that gruesome classroom full of zombie cadets. A litany of his past failures laid bare. It was all he had left of her now, and the memories continued to torment him. Even in his dreams.


	2. Fitz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter picks up with Fitz's POV and we get into his head a little bit. But remember that this is the beginning of season 2, so it is a little crowded in there.

Fitz stared down at his hands. They were shaking again as he tried to manipulate the tiny wires. Tensing his muscles to try to force his body to follow through on what his brain was telling it to do, he tried again, but with the same result. He finally threw the whole circuit on the floor in frustration, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. 

He felt useless, not able to help the team and not able to help himself. No wonder Jemma had left. Had left him. And he didn’t blame her. Whatever hope he had that she could feel the same way he felt about her was destroyed in the pod at the bottom of the ocean. Something in their relationship had shifted that day, and not the way he intended when he’d told her . . . well, when he told her. Now he was on his own and it was so much harder than he’d thought it would be. 

“Don’t worry, Fitz. You can do this.” It was Simmons, appearing beside him as she had so often lately. “Just take it one step at a time.” 

Even with his eyes closed he could picture her smile and the way her eyes would stare straight into him, and he couldn’t face her and her eternal optimism right now. It didn’t suit his mood.

He pulled his hands away from his face to take a quick look around the lab before answering her. The lab techs were on the other side of the room, ignoring him.

“It isn’t just this. It’s ah . . . ”

He bent down to pick up the pieces of wire and metal that were now scattered across the floor, and Simmons crouched down beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“Overwhelming?” she suggested in a quiet voice.

He reached over and put a hand over hers in an almost automatic gesture.

“No . . . not overwhelming.”

“Then, what?”

Fitz saw light glint off of a piece of metal across the room and went to pick it up, adding it to the pile of things in his life that he was responsible for destroying. First, everything with Jemma, and now science, the one thing he was always supposed to be good at. Last night’s dream had shaken him, bringing back memories that he thought were buried . . . and something else he couldn’t quite put his finger on. 

It was . . . 

“Jumbled,” he finally said, to a now impatient Simmons. “Everything feels jumbled.”

His mind recapped the dream again, this time playing out some of the scenes in slow-motion. One moment that was especially burned into his brain was when Jemma’s hand had rested lightly on his knee and she told him she wished he had asked her out way back then. A stab of irritation pulsed through him.

“Isn’t it enough that you follow me around all day? Do you need to invade my dreams as well?” he snapped at her, only realizing he forgot to keep his voice down when the techs glanced his way before continuing their whispered conversation.

Simmons looked surprised. Which was remarkable in that it didn’t make much sense for his subconscious to be surprised by the direction of his thoughts.

“That wasn’t me,” she said, scrunching her nose up in the way she always did when presented with a problem she wanted to solve. It made him want to hug her . . . or kiss her. Or maybe just push her away so he’d never have to be confronted with these thoughts again.

Mack entered the lab and gave Fitz a nod, which he tried to return as normally as possible. Since Mack was busy exchanging greetings with the techs, he turned to Simmons, and in a low whisper shot back, “ _You_ are a figment of my imagination, and _she_ was a product of my subconscious . . . of course it was you. Er, I mean, me.”

He frowned, thinking back on how real the Jemma of his dreams had seemed, how interested she had been in exploring those lost moments of their past. Simmons, as he saw her standing next to him now, seemed to be just a faded version of the woman he was still hopelessly in love with. She didn’t challenge him in the same way, or cause him to _feel_ as much as Jemma usually did. Maybe it was just the fact that he couldn’t keep his defenses up while he slept that let her creep into his dreams like that.

Breathing heavily, he said, “I just want to be alone.”

“Turbo, buddy . . . you are alone.” Mack was next to him, looking from side to side, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah . . . uh, I know.”

Simmons had moved behind Mack and was trying to peak over his arm at the tablet he held in his hands. Fitz shook his head at her, and Mack took a quick look over his shoulder before shifting his body towards Fitz.

“You get into a fight with that circuit?” Mack asked conversationally.

More embarrassed with Mack than he had been with Simmons, he shoved one fist into the pocket of his cardigan and used his other hand to sweep the mangled pieces into the bin.

“Well, it looks like you won at least.” Mack chuckled at his own joke and Fitz smiled, feeling more at ease. He kept his gaze on Mack, but he could see Simmons in his peripheral vision giving him an encouraging look and gesturing towards Mack.

“What, ah, what are you doing here?”

“We are having a problem figuring out how Hydra was able to modify S.H.I.E.L.D.’s designs for the weapon we encountered, and Coulson thought you might be able to help.” Fitz lifted a hand to take the tablet Mack offered him, but lowered it again, pulling it protectively against his chest, when he saw that it was shaking.

“Of course you can do that!” Simmons exclaimed, standing next to him again.

“Yes, ah . . . sure, I could take a look.”

When he walked to the other side of the table without taking the tablet, Mack set it down and pulled up the designs.

“It looks like they took this design, but somehow modified it to be effective over a greater distance. If you can figure out how they did it, then maybe some of these lab rats can come up with a solution.”

Fitz was pretty certain Coulson had just given him this project to keep him busy while the team was out saving the world, but it was interesting to reverse-engineer his own design and figure out how Hydra scientists of all people had managed to improve on it. In his defense this was one of his first projects when he had joined Sci-Ops. He had worked on it with Jemma. Back when they were a team. 

Mack was still explaining the device when Fitz tuned back into the conversation, “ -- according to these designs it was intended to disrupt communications within --”

“-- a ten meter radius, I know. That’s my design.”

Mack looked surprised and then squinted at the details on the final page of the plans. 

Feeling defensive, Fitz added, “It was the first thing I designed straight out of the Academy. It wasn’t great to begin with, so it isn’t surprising that someone was able to make improvements.” 

He worked through the rest of the day, not even stopping to eat, and by the time he finished for the night he was exhausted, but felt a sense of accomplishment that he hadn’t felt since before Jemma left. Of course, if she _had_ been here with him, they would have figured it out hours before he had managed it on his own. 

In the end it had been simple. While his design had relied on longer wavelengths to focus the disruption specifically to communication devices, the person who had modified his design was relying on much shorter wavelengths to accomplish the same purpose, but with more power. Specifically, wavelengths in the ultraviolet range, very close to blue light in the visible range. And there was only one person Fitz knew of that would modify a design like that. Robert Ross. He had worked with Dr. Ross at Sci-Ops, back when he was fresh from the Academy.

Even after the long day, Fitz tossed and turned unable to sleep. It could have been the adrenaline rush from finally feeling useful again, but he suspected it had more to do with his anticipation at seeing Jemma. 

When he did finally sleep, it wasn’t last night’s Jemma he saw, but a much more familiar dream.

Fitz turned and looked around the kitchen. He felt a familiar panic rise in his chest, like there was something he needed to do, but couldn’t remember what it was. He was pulled from his train of thought by a burst of noise from down the hall, and instinctively ducked under the table. He could hear squeals from the bathroom and realized it was his wife giving the twins their bath. While she always denied it, he was fairly certain the water splashed on the floor came from her trying to teach the toddlers about buoyancy and surface tension.

Even though he knew he should just finish his work so he could go to bed at a decent hour tonight, he couldn’t resist the urge to peak in on the three of them as his children got ready for bed. As he tried to reach them, the hallway expanded and darkness started to close in around him, but he followed the sound of Jemma’s voice until he reached the light on the other side. The children were out of the bath, both of them wrapped up in fluffy towels with little hoods on the top, Evie with a ducky towel and Max with a monkey towel. Max was attempting to shake the towel loose while running in circles, and Evie was doing her best to wriggle away from her pajamas.

Jemma noticed him at the door and smiled at him, looking towards their children with an indulgent look. He couldn’t help the smile that spread over his face at the realization that this was his life. Somehow, beyond all reason, Jemma had fallen in love with him.

“Would you be able to get the monkey into bed?” she asked, gesturing towards Max.

Pushing off the door jamb, Fitz plucked his son from where he was now rolling back and forth on the floor. “Come here, buddy. Let’s get you ready for bed.”

Twenty minutes and two stories later, well really two sections of the S.H.I.E.L.D. policy manual that Jemma had left out for him to read to the children, Fitz snuck out of the room, now lit only by a night light glowing in the corner. His mind was still turning over the section related to fraternization with fellow agents, considering potential loopholes in the wording. Max had said it didn’t matter because Jemma wasn’t interested, but Evie had insisted he needed to figure it out. 

He frowned. At that point in the story the twins had become exceptionally animated, with Max telling him not to waste his time because mum left because of him. But then Evie’s sweet voice had cut him off, saying that mum hadn’t left _because_ of him, and daddy needed to find her before it was too late.

Fitz just thought they were being awfully opinionated for toddlers and gave them each one last kiss before turning off the light.

Jemma had told him she was going to color code her sock drawer, but when he left the twins’ room, she was standing in the hallway looking around in confusion.

“Fitz, you’re here! I’m so happy to see you!”

It sounded like it had been months since they’d seen each other rather than just a few minutes, but he pulled her close, tucking an arm around her and pressing a kiss to Jemma’s temple.

“They really are adorable when they are asleep,” he murmured into her hair. Knowing he had work to do, he reluctantly moved back, ready to shift his attention back to work.

“Who’s adorable?” Jemma asked, confused. 

Furrowing her brow, she suddenly fisted her hands in his shirt and pulled him close, kissing him with an urgency he hadn’t expected. Not that he minded. At all. 

He walked backwards down the hall towards their bedroom, with Jemma matching him step for step, her fingers working their way down the buttons on the front of his shirt while her lips slid across his, tentative at first, but then with growing confidence. He wanted this. . .wanted her. He felt an odd niggling somewhere in his mind that he was supposed to be somewhere else, but he pushed it aside.

Stopping abruptly when his back hit the door, he reached down with one hand to grope for the doorknob and let out a groan when Jemma wrapped one leg around his calf. His hand found the cool metal of the knob and he pushed the door open, steadying Jemma as their combined momentum nearly caused them to topple, and she kicked the door closed behind her.

They separated for a moment to catch their breath and he noticed they were in his room at the Playground. Looking back down into Jemma’s face, he wrapped his arms around her more fully, pulling her tightly against his chest.

“I love you, Jemma.”

He saw surprise in her eyes, and noticed that her lashes looked long and dark as they swept down. Something she had done with her makeup made her eyes look bigger.

Her hands fluttered, as if she was uncertain what to do with them, and then they came down to rest on his shoulders. His own hands were making their way down her body, and she let out a sigh, leaning into him.

“I love you too, Fitz.” The words were quiet and hesitant, a sharp contrast to her actions a few minutes ago.

This time when their lips met it was slow and sweet, and Fitz let her set the pace, gently swiping his tongue across her closed lips until she let him in. Her hands tightened on his shoulders before one wrapped around the back of his neck.

Even though he had kissed her hundreds of times before in his dreams, this time felt oddly like a first kiss, and he broke it off as his hands tangled in her hair and he realized it was shorter than he was used to.

She was gazing at him a little distractedly and he memorized every detail of her appearance as he held her out at arms length, keeping her hand tucked in his to maintain the connection between them. She looked older . . . and amazing. Everything about her was a little bit darker - her clothes, her makeup, the dark circles under her eyes from working too hard, and even the expression on her face was less open and optimistic than her remembered.

“I miss you.” The words were out of his mouth before he had even finished thinking them.

“I miss you too. We haven’t been apart this long since the day we met. I suppose in some way it must be good for us . . . having to figure out how to get by on our own.” Her expression was wistful and for a moment he was more than willing to forgive her for abandoning him and making him doubt every moment they’d spent together. But then his frustration returned.

“You left _me_ , remember? We didn’t have to be apart.”

“But I did,” she insisted. “I needed to - to do _something_. And this is the only way I knew to help you.”

She was walking around his room now, examining the pictures, mostly of the two of them together but also of Max and Evie, resting on his dresser, and he realized that he had let go of her hand sometime in the last few minutes.

“Where were we,” she asked, “before we ended up in your room?”

“Oh, ah, that is our house. Um . . . when we get married.” His face flushed in embarrassment, but thankfully she didn’t look his way.

“It was lovely.” After a moment she added, “Where is it?”

“Scotland, I think.” The word came out of his mouth without conscious thought, but as soon as he said it he knew it was true.

“My family went on holiday in Perthshire once. It was beautiful. I’ve always imagined settling down there someday.” She smiled at him then and patted the space next to her on the bed.

“What do you mean, this is the only way you knew to help me?” he said, circling back to their earlier conversation. “You could help me here.”

She waited until they were sitting side by side to answer his question. She worried her lower lip with her teeth for a moment before answering.

“I was just making things worse. And maybe I needed some time apart to sort through how I felt -- how I _feel_ about you.”

He took her hand in his and rubbed his thumb over her palm.

“But going undercover has shown me--”

“Undercover!” Fitz practically shouted. “I thought you were going to visit your parents.”

“It’s okay Fitz. I’m okay.” She turned her hand over in his so she could grasp his fingers. She felt so real. He stared at their joined hands for a minute. If only he had managed to touch her like this . . . before.

“Being undercover with Hydra isn’t nearly as difficult as it sounds. Their organization isn’t run that well and their science division . . . well, let’s just say it isn’t like working with you.”

Jemma smiled up at him and he tried to move his jaw to say something. It seemed like she took his silence as some sort of judgement, rather than the pure terror he felt, because she said quickly, “What if it were you? Wouldn’t you want to feel like you were doing something, rather than just making a mess of things?”

He wanted to be angry. But he had been feeling that way for months, like he was dependent on everyone around him, instead of doing things for himself. He felt his anger drain away, and it was replaced by a more dangerous feeling of longing. 

“I’d rather you were here . . . with me.”

“Me too, Fitz. I want to come home so badly.” He wrapped an arm around her and she leaned into him.

“Do you think you can forgive me?” she asked quietly.

The light had changed, no longer dim and shadowed, and a glance around showied that they were no longer in his bedroom, but back in the house in Scotland. This time they were side-by-side on the porch swing, watching the sun rise over the horizon.

He thought about her question, and then turned to her. “Jemma, I can’t imagine my life without you in it. We’ll . . . well, we’ll figure it out.”

He reached out to touch her face, stroking a finger across her cheek. She smiled back at him, the first rays of sunlight lighting up her face. He leaned down to kiss her, brushing his lips gently across hers in a promise of things to come . . . and she vanished.

Fitz sat watching the sun rise, and then woke up, alone, in his bed.

It was still early, the green glow from the clock showed it was 5:17 am, but Fitz had a meeting with Coulson first thing, so he started getting ready. Everything took him longer now, from brushing his teeth to tying his shoes, so he was grateful for the extra time.

“Fitz, this is really good work,” Coulson said. “This is the first solid lead we’ve had on a potential S.H.I.E.L.D. scientist going over to Hydra.”

“Well, using, ah, wavelengths from that part of the color spectrum is his s-sig…it’s his thing. It almost seems like he wanted to, ah, get my attention.”

Coulson paced for a moment, then said, “Robert Ross. . . Bob Ross?”

Fitz shifted uncomfortably, “Do you, ah, do you know him?”

“Bob Ross likes to use the color blue. Does he also narrate while he works so you can follow along at home?”

Fitz started blankly at Coulson. There were so many things he just didn’t understand anymore. Or maybe the stress of the job was taking its toll on Coulson. This may have been the strangest conversation he’d ever been involved in. Well, except for the one with Jemma last night. His conversation with Jemma. She had told him she was going to visit her parents. But she had been gone so long now that clearly wasn’t true. He had to know she was safe. Coulson seemed to be in a pretty good mood right now, so maybe this was his chance.

“Sir?”

Coulson had turned back to the papers on his desk, clearly finished with their debrief, but he looked up at the question.

“Yes?”

“Jemma . . . ah, I mean, Simmons. She isn’t with her parents, is she?” Coulson didn’t respond to his question, just gave him a sympathetic look and Fitz almost lost his nerve.

“Is she undercover? With Hydra?” he pressed. “Because I think we need her here more. _I_ need her here.”

Coulson looked at him sharply. “How did you . . .?”

Fitz blushed. “Jemma. She -- she told me.”

Coulson looked at him sharply, but after a moment his expression changed to a look of pity. 

“Have you been communicating with her?” Coulson stood up. “No, that isn’t possible.”

He looked Fitz in the eye and Fitz broke eye contact. “Nevermind, I don’t want to know how you figured it out. Her safety depends on no one knowing. Unless you’ve told someone else, you, me, and May are the only ones who know where she is.” 

Fitz shook his head.

“Let’s keep it that way.”

With that confirmation, which left a sinking feeling in his stomach, Coulson steered Fitz towards the door and back into the hallway. Left alone with his thoughts again, he wondered how he could have possibly known where Jemma was . . . and what he would have to do to get her back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this dream starts off as one of Fitz's regular dreams about Jemma (because he obviously has some sort of rotation going), so for him he isn't seeing this as strange...yet. Fitz has a lot of different versions of Jemma to keep track of (Imaginary Jemma, the Jemma he dreams about, Real Jemma, and now Dream Jemma), so she's pretty much always with him.
> 
> ...and since the box Jemma is working on is affecting their dreams they'll become less and less symbolic and more realistic as we go along.
> 
> We'd love to hear your comments or feedback.
> 
> You can find us on tumbler @blancasplayground @libbyweasley


	3. Jemma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dreams get more intense as Jemma's time in Hydra comes to an abrupt end.

Jemma woke up feeling warm and content. Even the sound of the alarm clock couldn’t shake her pleasant mood. She’d had the loveliest dream. She was with Fitz again, which was nice enough in itself, but they had a house together, and a family. She’d even shared her fantasy of settling down in Perthshire with him and he hadn’t scoffed or rejected the idea. And they’d kissed. It wasn’t the first time she’d dreamt of kissing him, but this was somehow different. She could almost still feel his lips, so soft on hers, and the firmness of his chest beneath her fingers. For the second morning in a row, the dream didn’t drift out of her memory upon waking, as her dreams usually did. She could recall the entire course of it as if it had actually happened. And it made her miss him more than ever.

But even as her heart ached with longing, she couldn’t stop smiling. She went about her usual morning routine — breakfast, treadmill, shower, dressing — with a spring in her step. She emerged from her building onto the busy sidewalk, head in the clouds, and contemplated the best moments of her dream all the way to work. It wasn’t until she got to her workstation that she remembered, and the thought pierced her good mood like a pin to a balloon. The box. In her blissful daze she’d left it on her nightstand at home. 

She’d spent most of the previous day pretending to work on it, and then snuck it out again to do the real analysis at home. But she still wasn’t any closer to figuring it out. She needed to open it up, but she didn’t have many tools and the right ones weren’t easy to come by in the chem lab. At least she wouldn’t have to lie when Kenneth asked if she’d made any progress. Except, if he wanted to see the box, she’d have to explain why she didn’t have it. Which wouldn’t look good. All she had to show for her progress was the results of the analysis she’d run overnight. She didn’t even know what was in the automated report yet, but hoped it would satisfy him.

Before she had the chance to read it, though, three things happened. First, Kenneth seemed to have forgotten about the box entirely and assigned her another project, something to do with contaminated livestock. It was fascinating, she had to admit, but the key to bringing down Hydra wasn’t likely to be found in a herd of mutant cows. Second, there was the whole business with the discovery of a mole in her department. Her quick thinking with the flex screen had saved her, though. The constant threat of death or brainwashing had done wonders for her ability to perform under pressure. The only downside to watching Kenneth being dragged out of the lab by a bunch of armed Hydra thugs was that he would never know she was the instrument of his demise. And third, her cover had been blown. So maybe he would know after all.

Everything after that was sort of a blur. Thankfully, Agent Morse — _Bobbi_ — had done the thinking for both of them. It was an unspeakable relief to be back in the company of allies. They were now far away from Hydra, in possession of a hard drive full of stolen documents and one mystery box. It had taken some convincing, but Trip and Bobbi had agreed to let her make a quick stop at her apartment so she could retrieve it. Between the box and a few necessities, the entirety of her cover identity fit into a small duffel bag. There was nothing of that life she regretted leaving behind. As much as she loved her little apartment, and the sense of independence that went with it, it had never truly felt like home. No place without Fitz ever could. 

In a sense, she wasn't just returning to the base, she was returning to herself. No longer did she have to pretend to be anyone else. No more cozying up to genocidal sycophants, no more fast food dead drops, no more lying. She’d gone undercover because she thought it was the best way to help the team. No, not the team. _Fitz_. And, if she was being honest, she’d also needed to get away. She hoped time and distance would allow her to sort through all the confusing feelings she still couldn’t put into words. But maybe it had been too long, too much distance. It wasn’t until two nights ago, when she’d started dreaming of Fitz, that she’d begun to properly process any of it. The dreams had helped her put into perspective what months of undercover work hadn’t. She needed him as much as he needed her.

Bobbi explained that because they’d had to throw out the original extraction plan, the protocol was to stop and regroup at a S.H.I.E.L.D. safe house for the night. If they’d been followed it was better to make a stand on neutral ground than to lead the enemy straight to their secret base. Trip and Bobbi arranged to take turns as lookout while Jemma got some rest. She offered to take a shift, but they brushed her off and she was too tired to argue. 

It was already dark by the time they arrived at the safe house, a small, single story craftsman bungalow at the end of a suburban cul de sac. In the amber light of the street lamps lining the front walk it seemed to fit right in with its charming neighbors. On the outside, at least. Inside, it looked more like a bunker. The walls were clumsily reinforced with some kind of metal sheeting and the windows were darkened, giving the living room a gloomy quality, even with the lights on. 

Jemma left Bobbi and Trip to discuss logistics and wandered down the hall, opening up the first door she came to and entering a small, sparsely decorated bedroom. Deciding to claim it for the night, she took off her jacket and emptied the contents of the pockets onto a little table in the corner: one hard drive and one black cube. Then she collapsed onto the bed. Though she was exhausted, her mind was racing and she wasn’t sure whether sleep would come easily. She hoped it would. She needed to see her dream Fitz one more time before she had to face him in the real world.

She wasn’t exactly sure when she drifted off, but the next thing she knew she was standing outside the glass doors of their old lab on the Bus. It looked smaller somehow, though she couldn’t figure out what, if anything, was different. Her eyes found him right away. He wasn’t working, just leaning back against the workbench, scuffing the sole of his shoe on the floor. As if he were waiting for someone. Waiting for her.

“Fitz,” she said, stepping through the glass doors.

He looked up as she walked in, eyes full of something she could almost recognize. “Didn’t know if you’d show up tonight. Though I hoped you would.”

She scrunched up her face without losing her smile. “You were expecting me?”

“Our lab is a garage now, this is just a memory,” he said sadly, looking around. “And most of my memories of this place have you in them. So, yeah. Makes sense you’d be here.”

She didn’t know what to say to that, so she blurted out the first thing that came to her mind. “I’m coming home. Back to the base, I mean. Tomorrow.”

“I know,” he said simply, pushing off from the workbench and wringing his hands.

She shrugged. “I don’t know what I’m going to say when I see you.”

“Me either. Maybe we could practice?” he suggested.

She stepped closer to him, and her memories of the night before came flooding back. She licked her lips and didn’t miss the way his eyes flicked down to her mouth.

"What would you want me to say?" she asked. Her voice sounded strange in her ears, throaty and daring. Not like her usual self at all.

The corner of his mouth twitched. "That you'll never leave me again."

"I can’t promise that. But I can honestly tell you that I didn’t _want_ to leave you. I can't imagine ever wanting to be without you."

He nodded, sniffling slightly. "And what would you want me to say?"

She tried to meet his gaze, but he looked away. "That you’re all right. That you forgive me."

When he finally turned toward her, his eyes were glassy. "There's nothing to forgive, Jemma. In fact, I'm the one who should apologize. I never even thanked you for saving my life. And even if I'd thought of it, I'm not sure I could have gotten the words out."

"I wouldn't have been able to save you if you hadn't given me the oxygen first," she reminded him. It wasn’t something she could ever forget.

"Let's not waste time rehashing the past, okay?" At some point in their conversation they'd grown closer together, attracted like two oppositely charged ions. She could feel his warm breath on her cheek as he breathed the next words. "I'd rather talk about the future. Or, better yet, the present."

She could feel her heartbeat accelerate and took a deep, steadying breath. "Fitz,” she whispered back. “I’m worried.”

“About what?” He gently rubbed his hands up and down her arms. She knew he meant it to be comforting, but his touch was having a wholly different effect on her. She felt something building deep within, her center of gravity shifting.

“I’m not sure I can do this in person. What if I’ve lost you for good?" She glanced up at him, hoping to see reassurance in his eyes. When she found it there, unquestionably, she breathed a sigh of relief. His smile lit up her world.

“I worry about that too. But we have each other here. Now.”

“We do,” she agreed, smiling in return.

“So let’s make the most of it.” 

Before she knew what was happening, he was pressing her up against the workbench and kissing her so fiercely it almost knocked the wind out of her. She didn't pull back, but instead met him with equal intensity. Feeling his seeking tongue against her lips, she opened wider and granted him entrance. He moaned into her mouth and the combined sensation of the sound and vibration ignited a flame deep within her. This wasn't like the sweet, yearning embraces of the night before. That had been a cozy fire compared to the searing blaze of their kiss tonight. 

He broke away long enough to whisper in her ear, punctuating each sentence with a kiss in a different spot.

"I love you." Kiss.

"I miss you." Kiss.

"I want you." Kiss.

And with each phrase, the flame burned brighter.

"Me too,” she said between heaving breaths. “So much sometimes it hurts."

“Then let me make it better,” he growled, and leaned in again to wind his way down her jawline, to her neck, and around to the sensitive spot behind her ear. For an instant she wondered how he knew the exact path to follow in order to stoke her desire beyond her ability to contain it before remembering this was a dream, so of course he knew exactly how and where to touch her. 

Their location changed again and she pulled away to take in the new space, recognizing it from the night before. They were back in his bedroom on the base. Somehow, her dreams kept drawing her here. Only it looked different this time. The pictures of their imaginary future children had been replaced with ones from the past. There was a picture of Fitz with his mom, standing outside his old home in Glasgow, and one of the two of them looking young and fresh-faced at their Academy graduation. On a bedside table, positioned so it would be the first thing he saw when he woke up in the morning and the last thing he saw before he went to sleep, there was one she'd never seen before, though she clearly remembered taking it. It was a selfie snapped during one of their first missions after joining Coulson's team, two best friends having adventures together and saving the world with science. There were other personal items scattered around the room too, monkey statuettes, half-finished projects, desk toys. She could see the essence of him in every inch of it.

He didn’t acknowledge the change in venue. He was busy watching her carefully as she scanned the room. She walked around the bed and was about to pick up the picture to ask him about it when he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her toward him. There was something undeniably sexy about the impulsiveness and confidence in the gesture, and the lust that had dwindled to a smoldering ember within her came roaring back to life, consuming her once again. He set about exploring the exposed skin of her chest with his mouth. It felt like heaven. She ran her hands over his shoulders and his back as he moved, so strong and masculine. If only his clothes weren’t in the way there’d be so much more of him to feel. When he came back up to meet her eyes she saw dazzling blue sparks that reflected the wildfire inside her. Grinding her hips against him, she felt a surprising, but not unpleasant, bulge across her abdomen.

"Mmm. That feels nice.” She knew she sounded wanton, and didn’t care a whit. The tips of her fingers skittered up and down his hard length and, much to her delight, it twitched in answer to her touch. Even through the layers of fabric, she felt his heat and wanted nothing more than to meet it with her own, so they could burn together.

He hissed and stumbled backwards, breathless and dazed. Was he embarrassed? Could a figment of her subconscious mind _be_ embarrassed? There was no need for it. She quite liked knowing he was just as aroused as she was.

"Fitz," she pleaded. "Don’t stop now."

He gave her a devilish half smile and kissed her again, pulling at her bottom lip as he sucked on it. One of them moaned, but she couldn’t have said which of them it was. Maybe it was both of them.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, loud enough to break through the haze of passion clouding her mind.

She looked down at him, but he was focused on tracing her collar bone with his thumbs and contemplating the verge of her breasts with delicate fingers. “Do you hear that?” she asked.

“Hear what?” he said, barely pausing long enough to get the words out.

The knock came again.

“That sound. Someone’s knocking.”

“Simmons?” Trip’s muffled voice called out from the other side of the door.

Fitz froze and finally met her eyes, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Is that . . . Trip?”

“No. No! Damn.” She felt the pull of the waking world and struggled to hold on. Just a bit longer. Just a few more minutes. They were so close. But the dream was already slipping away. 

She awoke with a start, feeling lost and disoriented. This wasn’t her room. She'd fallen asleep on a strange bed, on top of the covers, still in her clothes from the day before. Her skin was covered in a sheen of sweat. But none of that mattered. She had to get back to Fitz, to finish what they’d started. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to fall back asleep, to recapture the moment, but it was no use. He was gone.

Trip’s knocking became more insistent and the memory of her surroundings started to come back. She was in a safe house. She was out of Hydra. And she was going to see the real Fitz today. 

The bedroom didn't have a clock, but the sky outside the curtained window had the periwinkle tint of pre-dawn. She pulled herself up to a sitting position and stretched her stiff arms up over her head. “You can come in,” she called to the closed door. “I’m awake.”

Trip opened the door just enough to poke his head inside. “Sorry. I know it’s early. No sign of Hydra so far, but Bobbi says we should keep moving. I know I’ll feel a lot safer when we get back to the base.”

Back to the base. The prospect was exciting and terrifying, all at once.

"Right," she said, stifling a yawn with the back of her fist. "I'll just be a minute. Don't suppose there’s any tea in the kitchen?"

He gave her an apologetic look. "There’s stale coffee."

She bobbed her head. "Needs must."

Trip smiled that 1000-watt smile of his. "It's good to have you back, Simmons."

"Thank you, Trip." She meant it in more ways than one, and he nodded in understanding as he closed the door. She wished she could add that it was good to be back, but there were still too many unknown variables to consider.

How would Fitz react when he saw her again? Would he be able to talk to her? And what would she say to him? It had been different in the dreams. She could be honest with him there, without any fear of losing him. Her dream Fitz was still hurt and vulnerable, but he was also understanding. Not to mention attractive. She’d always found him handsome, but something about the way he’d kissed her drove her to distraction. It could prove to be a problem going forward.

They cleared out of the safe house before the sun had fully risen, all of them anxious to reach their final destination. As the cloaked quinjet rose from the neatly cut grass of a nearby football field and headed into the brightening sky, Jemma felt a sense of peace wash over her. No matter what was waiting for her when she got back, she would be ready. She was going home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took a bit of artistic license here in order to give Jemma one more night to dream before seeing Fitz again in real life. But who's to say she didn't spend the night somewhere on the way back to the base? From here on out we'll start moving further away from canon anyway, though, so I suppose it doesn't matter.


	4. Fitz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reunion! Fitz and Jemma finally see each other again in this chapter, but it doesn’t quite go as expected. Luckily they still have their dreams. 
> 
> There is a rating change in this chapter. If that isn’t your thing, stop reading at the page break about 3/4 down and pick up at the last few paragraphs (also marked with a page break).

After hours of poring over his notes on cloaking technology without actually seeing a word of it, Fitz finally gave up any pretense of working. From the moment he woke up his senses had been buzzing with the promise of seeing Jemma again. He had been in the lab waiting for her to appear, like she had in his dreams, long before the others on the base had begun to stir.

He didn’t know what he had expected. They hadn’t had a real conversation since that day at the bottom of the ocean. But whatever he expected, it hadn’t been the single moment their eyes had locked as she had been hurried towards Coulson’s office, Trip close behind.

His hope that things would go back to normal between them was dashed, even as he felt desire race through him. Though he had practiced what to say to her in his dreams, the moment he saw her she took his breath, and his words, away. Her hair was shorter, just as he had imagined. Which was strange because he had never wanted her to be any different than how she was. All he could do was stare at her, their eyes meeting as she glanced into the lab and gave him a ghost of a smile before continuing down the hallway.

Now, hours later, he was debating with himself over the best course of action going forward. His dreams of the last few nights had helped him admit how deep his feelings for her really were, but his dream girl wasn’t the real Jemma. She didn’t feel the same way and continuing to fantasize about her was just pathetic.

If Jemma had any idea how he had been thinking - and dreaming - about her, she would be horrified. How would they mend their friendship if he couldn't let her go? He had to. Their friendship was too important. But he couldn’t.

The more he thought about Jemma, the real Jemma, the worse he felt about the version of her that had been haunting his lab, and even worse about the one that was visiting him in his dreams. He was imagining her saying and doing things she would never want. And that wasn’t fair to her. As he puttered unnecessarily with the design on his tablet, his mind drifted back to his dream from last night. He could almost feel her hands on him, stroking up and down through his trousers, and he shifted uncomfortably.

“What are you working on, Fitz?” It was Simmons again.

“You can’t be here,” he hissed at her. Her presence worked as well as a cold shower.

“Of course I can. . .this is our lab.”

“No, I mean, she’s back. . .uh, you’re back.”

Simmons walked slowly around the table, apparently deep in thought.

“I thought you needed me?” she asked.

“I do. . .I did.” He dropped his head into his hands and rolled his shoulders to release the tension. “I need Jemma.”

“Well she’s back now, isn’t she, mate?”

Fitz jerked his head up, realizing that Simmons had disappeared and Hunter stood in her place.

“Ah. . .yes. She’s back now I guess.”

“Does she always look so. . .intense?” Hunter plopped down in the chair next to Fitz.

“Jemma?” Fitz smiled involuntarily at the thought of her.

Thinking for a moment he shrugged and said, “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Are you almost done in here?” Hunter asked. “I could use a beer.”

Fitz looked at Hunter, noticing the change in tone, and saw that his friend looked more stressed than usual.

“The Hellbeast,” Hunter responded.

Fitz raised his eyebrows at Hunter, clearly not following the conversation.

“Bob. . .Agent Bobbi Morse,” Hunter clarified.

Fitz must have looked as confused as he felt, because Hunter continued, “My ex. . .she was apparently undercover with your scientist.”

“Jemma’s not mine,” Fitz quickly replied.

“Uh-huh. . .then why have you been staring at that tablet all day waiting for her to walk back from Coulson’s office?”

Fitz didn’t want to admit, even to himself, that Hunter may be right, so he set down his tablet and said, “I’m ready for that beer.”

Fitz and Hunter drank their first beers in relative silence, both lost in thought. But once Mack joined them they returned to their normal, boisterous jabs.

“I still say that if you have to change everything about yourself for a woman, then she’s really not right for you,” Hunter said.

It seemed that every conversation they had eventually wound up back at Mack’s quinoa-eating ex-girlfriend. Fitz rolled his eyes, thinking he could have dealt with almost anything if Jemma felt the same way he did. But she was probably thinking about Trip. That thought darkened his mood even further.

“Hey now!” Mack responded, taking another drink of his beer. “I don’t remember it being _that_ bad.”

Hunter was about to shoot back a retort when there were footsteps in the hallway. Fitz turned towards the door, trying not to look too interested in who was entering the room, but mostly just hoping it was Jemma.

It wasn’t.

“Fitz, can I talk to you for a few minutes?” Coulson asked, with a nod to the others in the room. “I have some more information about that project you were working on.”

Fitz took one long drink to finish his beer as he got up and walked in the direction of Coulson’s retreating back. Hunter tipped his beer bottle in Fitz’s direction as he moved past.

“Maybe next time, mate.”

It should have been embarrassing. If Coulson was talking about a project with Fitz that meant Jemma had finished her debrief and hadn’t bothered to seek him out. Somehow just knowing that Hunter understood made it a little easier.

But as soon as he stepped into the hallway, there she was, looking uncomfortable and nervous. It was possible she was as uncertain about their relationship as he was. Or, more likely, she wanted to find a way to let him down gently in case he still harbored feelings for her.

“Hello, Fitz.” She smiled at him, looking directly into his eyes, but then she looked away before he could decipher her expression.

“Jemma.” He tried to be polite, and not read anything into this conversation. What he told her in his dream was true. There was nothing to forgive, and their friendship, if that was really all they had, was still too important to let go. But he hadn’t had that conversation with _her_.

He would let her decide the direction of their relationship. But even as he thought it, his mind was flooded with images of her, some of them real memories and some of them from his dreams the last few nights. He could practically taste her lips and feel her body under his fingers.

The direction of his thoughts made it hard to look her in the eye. So he looked at the floor instead.

“I. . .I should. Ah, Coulson. . .me.” His thoughts were jumbled again and he couldn’t seem to put any words together that made sense.

He turned to walk towards Coulson’s office, desperate to put some space between them, his thoughts too confused and his body reacting to her presence in a way he knew she wouldn’t appreciate.

“Fitz, wait!” she called out, reaching for his arm. But once her fingers brushed the skin of his forearm where he had rolled his shirt up, she jerked her fingers back as if burned.

Feeling like he was losing control, he pushed a shaking hand into his cardigan pocket and blew out a disgusted breath. After months of imagining this reunion, it was a complete disaster.

“I. . .c-can’t Jemma.”

“Fitz, please,” she said stiffly. “I miss you.”

He tried to look her in the eyes again to find her looking away from him. He needed them to be alright. But he didn’t have it in him to actually have a conversation with her right now. He was too confused, he had to talk to Coulson. . .and his trousers were too tight.

“Not now,” he said finally looking at her face again. But what he saw there surprised him. She looked upset. . .and so much like his dream girl that he sucked in a breath, coughing.

“We can talk, uh, later, yeah?” Fitz asked, needing to get away from her before she noticed he was half hard from his thoughts about her, but at the same time also needing to be close to her.

“Later,” she echoed quietly, suddenly looking tired and small.

Walking away from her was hard, but he knew he had to do it. There was nothing he could say right now to make this right. He didn’t know what she wanted. And if what she wanted was Trip. . .well, somehow he’d find a way to be okay with that. But he’d never like it. He just needed some more time.

Taking the long way to Coulson’s office, he felt calmer by the time he knocked on the door. Jemma had never caused him such turmoil before, but every time he saw her or heard her voice, or even just thought about her to be honest, he was just reminded of what he didn’t have. And his subconscious was toying with him, giving him false hope.

“Come in,” Coulson’s voice rang out through the closed door, looking up from his desk once Fitz had stepped into the room.

“Fitz. . .are you feeling alright?” Coulson asked, sounding concerned. “You look flushed.”

“Fine, sir.” He was _not_ going to explain to his boss that he was having inappropriate thoughts about a coworker.

“If you’re sure,” he said, sounding unconvinced. “I just wanted to give you an update on Bob Ross. Skye was able to track him to New Mexico. He’s working at a tech startup in a pretty isolated area, and it seems that Hydra has taken over the organization. They must have some technology that Hydra wants to get their hands on, and I’d like to get there first. I can send a team in to talk to him, but. . .”

Fitz was aware that Coulson was looking at him, wordlessly asking a question he didn’t quite understand.

“Dr. Ross might not feel, uh, comfortable talking to S.H.I.E.L.D agents he doesn’t know,” Fitz said slowly.

“I know,” Coulson said with a smile. “I think _you_ should talk to him.”

“Me? That is. . .well, what about Simmons?” Fitz rubbed one hand on the back of his neck. “She seems to like being undercover.”

Coulson’s smile got wider and Fitz had the distinct feeling that he had walked into a trap. “That is a great idea. I’m glad you suggested it, Fitz.”

Coulson came around the desk and grasped Fitz’s shoulder in a gesture he assumed was meant to be encouraging.

“Simmons is going to be pleased that you feel ready to go back into the field. She was just saying during our debrief on her Hydra mission that she missed working with someone of your caliber.”

They had reached the door and Fitz hadn’t yet found an opportunity to object.

“—you should get some rest, and I’ll let Simmons know about the plan tomorrow.”

The door shut behind him and Fitz tried to figure out how he had ended up in the hallway having agreed to go out into the field with Jemma.

Fitz tossed and turned for what felt like hours. His brain kept playing a loop of him alone with Jemma on the upcoming mission. On the good loops he imagined kissing her with their bodies pressed together after he rescued her from whatever villains they would inevitably face. And on the bad loops he spent the entire awkward mission staring at her shoes, or worse his own shoes, unable to look her in the eye.

He fell asleep thinking about how much he wished Trip wasn’t at the base, constantly reminding Jemma about the kind of man she could be with.

Simmons and Trip were kissing - more than kissing - in his lab. He was trying to get his tablet from the table so he could get back to work, but every time he got close they would flail about until they blocked his path again.

“Would you two just stop!” he finally yelled in their general direction. But they didn’t seem to hear him. Or didn’t care.

Suddenly Simmons pushed at Trip’s shoulders. But it wasn’t Simmons anymore. It was Jemma. His Jemma, looking as she had when he saw her earlier that day, with her eyes smoky and her hair shorter.

“What in the hell are you doing, Trip?” She swiped at her lips with the back of her hand. “Why would I be dreaming about this?” she asked, looking around.

“This isn’t your dream. . .it’s mine, Jemma.”

She seemed to notice him then and came to stand beside him.

“Okay. . .then why are _you_ dreaming about this?”

“Because this is what you want?” he asked, turning to face her.

She looked dressed for bed in just her knickers and a tank top. He swallowed and tightened his fists by his sides.

“No, I don’t,” she said emphatically. “Why would you just assume I’m interested in Trip?”

This felt like they were fighting and he didn’t really want to fight with her. Not tonight.

“Were you going to bed, Fitz? You shouldn’t wear your pajamas in the lab.”

He knew he had been fully dressed a minute ago, but when he looked down he saw he was dressed similarly to Jemma in boxers and a white T-shirt.

She was looking at him accusingly and he was about to point out her own state of undress, except when his eyes traveled down her body he lost the ability to speak. Which was fine because he noticed they were now back in his bedroom. Somehow they always ended up here. But as he looked around he realized it wasn’t his room, though it looked similar. Was this Jemma’s room?

“Fitz. . .you didn’t come to talk to me tonight.” She stepped closer, so close he could smell her shampoo. “You said we could talk later.”

“I didn’t think you’d care. You had Trip to talk to after all.”

“Why do you keep bringing up Trip?”

“I heard him. . .last night.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. It’s you I want to talk to. . .I waited for you.”

Jemma was confusing him. And she was looking at him like she wanted an answer. So he did the only thing that made sense and kissed her.

* * *

 

Wrapping his arms around her waist he hauled her up against him. She let out a breathy sigh in the seconds before their lips met, like she had been waiting for this. They moved together, lips sliding in a wet kiss and Jemma bit at his lower lip before smoothing her tongue across it in a soothing motion. But he was not calmed. It just made him feel more inflamed.

They were standing next to the bed, so he pushed her onto the mattress, following her with his body. Half on top of her he continued kissing her, working his way past her ear and then down her neck, stopping to suck at the tender skin there as she clawed at his shirt.

“Oh, god. . .Fitz.” At the sound of Jemma moaning his name he swirled his tongue over the sensitive skin one last time. As he continued kissing his way down to her breasts he saw the hickey starting to form on her pale skin.

She had pushed his shirt all the way up, so he moved back to remove it entirely, her hands tracing across his stomach and chest as he tossed it away.

“You’re mine,” he growled, coming back to lie down on her, pulling the stretchy fabric of her top down under her breasts, pushing them up for him to feast on.

“I’m not anyone’s, _Leo_.” She tried to sound stern, but the effect was ruined by the way she gasped every time his tongue brushed across her breasts, first swirling around one nipple, then the other, before he finally sucked one into his mouth.

He may not have been the one she had wanted, but he could make her forget.

“Well, you aren’t his,” he insisted.

Jemma’s hands were gripping his shoulders tightly and she was rocking her hips, rubbing against the thigh that was planted between her legs.

“Please, Fitz. . .”

He could feel her heat and wetness straight through her knickers and he rubbed his cock against her in return, shifting over her so they were more properly aligned.

“Tell me. . .tell me you’re mine.” His words were low and her eyes drifted closed. “Jemma.”

He moved back onto his knees, far enough away that she groaned in frustration. She tried to sit up, but he brought his hands up to the elastic on her knickers, stroking the skin on her thighs and across her stomach as he looked at her.

“Tell me, Jemma.”

Her hands came to rest on top of his, stilling his movements. “I’m yours. . .there is no one else, Fitz.”

Then she used her grip on his hands to push her knickers down and she sat up on her knees across from him on the bed.

Their lips met again as she pushed down his boxers before wriggling out of her knickers entirely. Her lips were soft, but her tongue pressed roughly into his mouth, like she was trying to taste every part of him. It felt like a challenge, and he scooted closer to her until their torsos touched and his hands were in her hair pulling her lips more firmly against his. And then her hand moved down his chest and across his stomach, trapped between their bodies, until she wrapped it firmly around his cock.

”How about I show you what I want?”

He had no will to resist her, so when she pushed at his shoulder he laid down, pulling her on top of him.

She was kissing him again as she ground against him. But it wasn’t enough and he thrust his tongue into her mouth in a pale imitation of what he really wanted and slid his hands down her back until he gripped her ass with both hands.

They moved against each other, breathing becoming more labored, and Fitz tugged her against him more firmly as he thrust his hips up, feeling Jemma’s wetness slide along his length.

Parting for breath, Jemma raised her head and Fitz looked into the face of his best friend, the woman he loved. Her hair tickled his cheeks and neck as their hot breath mingled.

“I love you, Jemma.” All the anger and frustration he felt earlier was gone. Trip didn’t matter anymore. The only thing that mattered was her. And he was going to make sure she knew it.

Sitting up and pulling off the tank top that was twisted around her middle, Jemma straddled him and reached down to stroke his cock. He tried to control his body, but he pushed against her hand and she smiled. Feeling a surge of possessiveness he took control of the moment, rolling them over so he was on top of her once again poised at her opening.

“Are you sure, Jemma?” he asked, not sure if he was talking about this moment or about forever. But she nodded and then it didn’t matter.

As he sank into her all he could feel was her wet heat. She wrapped her legs around him, locking her ankles together and pulling him deeper with each thrust of his hips. He rested his weight on his elbows and leaned in to kiss her again.

Her hands were everywhere, her touch sure but gentle as she stroked across his back before sliding a hand between their bodies.

Being with her was amazing. Even better than he had ever imagined before. He tried to capture her nipple in his mouth but ended up plastering sloppy kisses down her neck and chest, which made her moan and gasp his name like she had done earlier.

Their movements were becoming frantic and Fitz lifted his head to look at her. Her eyes were squeezed shut, dark curls spilling across the white fabric of the pillow.

He lifted one hand to stroke her cheek and she opened her eyes. He felt like he was staring into her soul. Holding her gaze he moved more deliberately, making sure she knew exactly who was making love to her.

Their skin was hot everywhere they touched and Fitz bit his lip as he tried to hold back. He wanted this moment to last as long as possible. But then Jemma cried out his name and he felt her inner muscles tighten around him, pulsing as she peaked, and it was too much. He came right after her, hips stuttering, and he held her tighter.

Shifting his weight off of her, he settled to her side with one arm still wrapped around her. He never wanted to let go.

* * *

 

She rested her head against his chest and he pressed kisses into her hair as their breathing returned to normal.

“Fitz?”

“Hmmm?”

“Can you promise me something?” she asked quietly.

“Anything you want,” he mumbled sleepily.

Letting out a small laugh, she scolded him, “you probably should have asked me what it was first.” Then, more seriously, “Promise me everything will be okay.”

Fitz nodded, feeling that in this moment everything was alright, and Jemma lifted her head to look at him. Their eyes met and he saw everything he needed reflected back at him. It seemed like she agreed, because she stretched forward to kiss him again before settling down beside him.

When he woke up, she was gone. The sheets were cold and he knew she had never really been there, but if he closed his eyes he could almost feel her warmth beside him.


	5. Jemma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma finds herself distracted at work by inconvenient images of Fitz from her dream the night before, but things start to come into focus when she makes a startling discovery.

It took Jemma longer than usual to get ready for the day. She wasn't normally the type to sleep in, but after the dream she'd had she needed some time to get herself under control. She and Fitz needed to talk at some point. They couldn't go on avoiding each other forever. But it was going to be tricky if she couldn't stop thinking about how amazing his mouth and hands had felt on her skin. At least she had a plan to break the ice. 

Despite her slow morning, it was still relatively early by the time she left her room. If she timed it right, and Fitz kept to his old schedule, she might be able to catch him on his way to breakfast. It would be better to get their first encounter of the day over with right here in the hallway rather than later on in the lab, where her lack of focus could become a real issue. 

She hesitated outside of Fitz's door, holding the box at her side with one hand while she balled the other in to a fist, preparing to knock. Her plan to enlist his help had two benefits. First, it would give her something else to think about besides the image of him hovering over her, claiming her as his and no one else's. Second, he might actually be able to solve it. She'd gone to a lot of trouble to sneak the box out and retrieve it from her apartment while on the run from Hydra. She wasn't about to give up now. And if anyone could help her figure it out, it would be Fitz. 

She swallowed hard and lifted her fist to knock, but at that precise moment Fitz swung the door open. Instead of hitting hardwood, her knuckles met empty air. She stumbled forward, caught off balance, unable to catch herself as the momentum sent her careening right into his chest. He braced her shoulders with his arms and her mind flooded with all the sensuous thoughts she'd been trying to keep at bay all morning. He looked up, startled, and froze. 

Their eyes locked and she saw a fear in his gaze that mirrored her own. There was something new there too, dark and razor sharp. Whatever it was, it made her breath hitch and sent a warm sensation rushing up the back of her neck. Instinctively, her hand came up to cover the spot where he'd marked her in her dream the night before. He squinted for an instant, giving her a questioning look, then turned away, breaking the spell. Maybe she was imagining it, but it seemed like his face had turned pink around the edges. 

"Sorry," he mumbled, holding up his hand as if to block her face from view. "I was just . . ." He pointed down the hall. 

"Heading to breakfast, I know," she finished for him.

"No," he contradicted testily, examining the floor. "The um . . . the . . . the lab."

"Oh. Well, that's good, actually. I needed to talk to you about something." For some reason she felt the need to add, "Work related."

"What . . . what is . . . that?" He nodded at the box in her hand. 

"This is what I wanted to talk to you about. Besides the hard drive, it's the only thing I was able to smuggle out of Hydra."

"Ah. What's it do?"

"I don't know. I was hoping you might help me figure it out." She offered it to him and he took it, testing the weight in his hands. She could tell that his curious mind was already working the problem. At least some things didn't change.

"Right," she said, feeling like she was talking to herself. She was having almost as hard a time finding words as he was, and she didn't even have a reasonable excuse like brain damage. "Um. Then . . . we'll just . . . go to the lab." 

He started down the hall, fiddling with the box as he walked. She was about to follow when her eyes caught on the interior of his room. Through the open door she could see some of his things, including his bed and desk. The room was set up exactly as it had been in her dream, the same decor, same pictures, same everything. It was strange. She knew Fitz better than anyone, but even she couldn't have predicted with such accuracy what his room would look like when she'd never seen it before. The thought stuck in her mind like a splinter, but she didn't have time to dig it out. He was already halfway to the lab and likely wondering what was taking her so long. She filed it away for further study, silencing the nagging and increasingly insistent voice that was telling her that something was off.

He was already bent over his workstation and taking out his tools when she reached the lab, seemingly as grateful for the distraction as she was. He didn't acknowledge her as she entered, which was just as well because he would have caught her admiring the lovely view of his back side. Forcing her attention on more productive matters, she decided to follow her own line of investigation and check the results of the last test she'd done on the residue before she’d left Hydra. In the chaos of the extraction and the emotional turmoil of returning to the base she'd nearly forgotten the report was still saved on the hard drive, unopened. 

She wasn't expecting much more than the inconclusive results of the previous tests, but this time there was a positive identification. Actually, there were several. The report provided a list of synthetic drugs including a hypnotic found in over-the counter sleep aids, a mild narcotic, a potent sedative, and a mixture of natural herbs known to induce a dream-like state. Combined, the cocktail packed a punch similar to her own dendrotoxin formula, but in an aerosolized form. It seemed designed to both knock out and promote lucid dreams in any individual exposed to it. The effect would be instant, though not unpleasant for the target and, in her estimation, would wear off after a night of heavy REM sleep.

In conclusion, the box emitted what she could best describe as a sleeping mist, but to what end? _REM_ sleep, that was key, but there had to be more to it, something to do with the box itself. Kenneth had said it enabled long-distance communication. Undetectable and untraceable. What if that communication happened in a dream? She hadn’t been dosed with the mist, but she _had_ been having vivid, lucid dreams since that first night she brought the box home. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Somehow she must have engaged the device without realizing it and it had facilitated the connection.

The memory of seeing Fitz's room earlier popped into her head. She'd dreamt about it in exact detail before she knew what it looked like. So it must have been his thoughts she had seen. He’d brought them back to his room in his dream. Twice. But that meant he was experiencing the dreams too. It wasn't her subconscious conjuring an image of him, but _actually_ him. Which meant they'd actually . . .

Oh. Oh, god.

She felt the panic building in her chest. The implications of her discovery fanned out, too expansive to contemplate all at once. Their confessions of love and doubt and jealousy and fear. The idyllic scene of a potential future together. Their first kiss. Their first sexual experience. All of it honest and real, but only in their heads. Did that even count? Were they her dreams or his? She couldn’t deny that she’d wanted those things to happen. And last night they’d ended up in _her_ room. He didn’t seem to mind, though. Would he feel differently if he knew she was the one pushing them further?

It all made sense. No wonder he'd been going back and forth between looking at her with smoldering intensity and not being able to look at her at all. No wonder he'd been avoiding her. All the indecent thoughts she'd been having this morning, the flashes of their encounter the night before, he must have been plagued with them too. She had to fight the impulse to confront him right then and there and find out whether they were having the same effect on him they were having on her. 

But her concentration was broken by an alert on her phone, a reminder that she had a meeting with Coulson in five minutes. She’d planned to have more time in the lab that morning, but the need to dial back her lingering desire had thrown her whole schedule off. And that was _before_ she’d learned their experience had been a shared one. She knew she should probably take this new information straight to the director — leaving out the more salacious details, of course — but she had to talk to Fitz first. And even if there was time, she didn't have the faintest idea how to bring it up. 

"Hey, Fitz, by the way, those really vivid dreams you've been having where we talk about our feelings and make out and have smoking hot sex? Yeah, I was there too."

That probably wouldn't go over very well. Or maybe it might. She felt like she didn't know anything anymore.

She needed more conclusive data. No sense in bringing up something she couldn't explain or understand. Which reminded her that Fitz was still working on the box. On her way out the door she stopped at his work table and peered over his shoulder. "Fitz?"

He jumped away from her with a yelp. "Christ, Simmons," he said, once he'd calmed down. "You can't just . . . go around sneaking up on people like that."

"Sorry.” She gave him her most reassuring smile. “Any progress?"

"No. Can't get the bloody thing open. I was about to try the . . . um . . . the plasma . . ."

"The plasma cutter. Yes. Good idea. But I'm going to need it back for a bit first. I have a meeting with Coulson and I wanted to show it to him."

That wasn't remotely her intention, but he didn’t need to know that. She needed to get the box out of the lab before Fitz dismantled it. Or, worse yet, figured out what it did. If he deduced its function before she had the chance to explain, he might assume she'd been doing it on purpose. 

"Oh," he said, sounding a bit disappointed. He handed her the box and she tried not to look relieved. "That's fine then."

"Thank you," she said, searching his expression for some indication of what he was thinking, but he still wouldn't look at her. She used to have no trouble reading him, but he was so guarded now. At least, when he was awake. If there was one thing she liked most about their shared dreams — even better than the fantasy lovemaking, which was also pretty great — it was the way they could finally stop hiding and just be themselves with each other.

"You're meeting with Coulson now?" he asked. There was something in his voice that made her wonder what was waiting for her in that office. 

"Yes, just a follow up from our briefing yesterday."

"Okay," he said. "Come find me when you're fi . . . fin . . . done."

She gave him one last glance before leaving and had to shut down another image from her dream, one in which he was kissing her senseless. She wondered what he was picturing at that moment, and what kind of rating it would earn from the MPAA. It was bad enough having pornographic images of your best friend running through your mind on an endless loop, but knowing that he might be having the same thoughts only made it more exciting. They really had to work things out between them, and soon.

She found Coulson alone behind his desk, going over some files on a tablet. 

"Agent Simmons," he said as she entered. "Right on time, as usual."

"Hello, sir. Should we pick up where we left off yesterday or— "

"Actually, I have something else I wanted to discuss with you." 

So this _was_ more than a briefing. At least there were still some things Fitz couldn’t hide from her. "Oh? And what's that, sir?"

"It’s about Fitz."

She could feel her face reddening. "Fitz?" she said with a tight smile, sounding as if she'd never heard the name before in her life. "What about him?"

"I know you haven't been back long, but I'd like to get your assessment of his progress."

She forced herself to relax. He was just looking for her professional opinion, nothing more. "Well, he's doing considerably better since I last saw him. He's still having trouble finding words, but his mind is as sharp as ever. And the brain has ways of working around those broken connections. I believe with time and therapy he could be as competent and productive as he was before the injury."

"I’m sure he will, but I don't have that kind of time. I need his expertise now, in the field. Nothing dangerous, just a fact-finding mission. As someone familiar with his case, do you think he'd be up to handling it on his own?"

This took her by surprise. She'd just come back and now Fitz might be going away? That didn't feel right.

"I'm not sure he's ready for the kind of stress that comes with being in the field, sir. I mean, you know Fitz. He’s always been more comfortable in the lab."

She preferred him in the lab too, where it was nice and safe and there wasn’t anyone threatening to shoot him or throw him out of a plane.

"I didn't ask if you thought he was ready to go into the field. I asked whether you thought he could go _alone_."

He gave her a pointed look and she nodded her head once in understanding. "You want me to go with him."

"Look, I know you two have been through a lot, and I'm not even going to try to guess what happened between you at the bottom of the ocean, but I need you to put all that aside. I need my dream team back."

His choice of words nearly made her choke on her own tongue. "Have you talked to Fitz about this?"

"I have. And he's already agreed. I just need you on board so we can get this mission off the ground. Literally. Because you’ll be flying there on a plane."

She wasn't quite convinced. A mission in the field? With just the two of them? Awkward didn’t begin to cover it. "What exactly would we be dealing with, sir?"

Coulson handed her the tablet so she could read the files. “Dr. Robert Ross. We acquired a device he modified based on an old S.H.I.E.L.D. design.”

“I know Dr. Ross. We worked together at Sci-Ops.” She flipped through the files, stopping at a familiar schematic. “This is Fitz's design, isn't it?”

"Yes, and we believe Dr. Ross had a reason for altering it. We know the how. We just need to know the why. He's working for a company that was recently acquired by Hydra, but we don't know what side he's on. Fitz thinks the modifications he made might be a signal of some kind."

She flipped back to the dossier. Something in his work history jumped out at her. After leaving Sci-Ops he headed the communications division at Consolidated Tech, the same company that had developed the box. Maybe if she could get him alone at some point she could ask him about it.

Decision made, she handed the tablet back. “When do we leave, sir?"

His smile was somehow smug and endearing at the same time. "Tomorrow morning. Wheels up at zero six hundred."

Jemma didn’t see Fitz again for the rest of the day. She went to bed early with a glass of water and a sleeping pill. Now that she knew what the box did she was anxious to experiment and she knew she’d never be able to fall asleep naturally with her mind all abuzz. The mist it emitted started to make more sense. Its purpose wasn't to put the target to sleep, but the operator of the box. After all, knowing you were attempting to connect to someone through their dreams wasn't exactly conducive to relaxation. Without some kind of chemical assistance she might have been staring at the ceiling all night. 

It would be a while before Fitz went to sleep, and even longer before he reached the REM state. Which was good, because she needed some time alone in her dreams to do some research and collect data. She wanted to test the limits of her control and to try and sort out how much of the dream was her and how much was Fitz. 

What still didn’t add up was why she would be sharing dreams with him, of all people, even when they’d been miles apart. He was on her mind almost all the time, especially at night. Was that how it worked? She just had to think about him? That’s what she’d been doing the last four nights before she fell asleep anyway.

As if she needed anything else keeping her awake, there was also the guilt. The other times had been accidental. She hadn’t known consciously that she was connecting with Fitz through his dreams before, but this time it was purposeful. No matter how much she told herself it was for science, she had to admit she had her own selfish reasons for wanting to experiment with the device. As she felt the effects of the sleeping pill starting to kick in, she clung to the hope that she wasn't a terrible person, that she was doing good in the world, for Fitz and for S.H.I.E.L.D. 

Jemma stood in a vast field, the long grass tickling her bare knees. She was wearing pajamas, a matching polka-dot set with shorts and a short-sleeved button-up top, her brain's unsubtle cue that she was in a dream. A slight breeze made the grass sway in elegant waves, but she didn't feel cold. Which made sense, since she wasn't really there.

Looking around, she couldn't see anything on the horizon, no signs of life, no buildings, nothing familiar at all. No sign of Fitz either. So she had some time, and an awful lot of questions. If only she had a notebook to write it all down. Almost as soon as the thought occurred to her, she she was holding one, standard Academy issue, and a pen. She wouldn’t be able to read the notes in the waking world, but it would help her keep track of things and sort them out while she was in the dream.

She reached back into her memory and pulled an image from her childhood, the cottage in Perthshire. Fitz must have been in control when she found him that second night putting their imaginary children to bed. That had to have been his dream she'd wandered into. Apparently, he fantasized about a life where they were settled down in Scotland with kids. The logical part of her was fascinated, while a deeper part sent a surge of emotion through her imaginary chest. It wasn't too far off from her own dreams. It seemed this sharing thing didn't start with the box; it had started long before.

She pictured the cottage in her mind and recalled the first time she'd seen it. She was on holiday with her family. They were driving on a country road on their way to a nearby lake. A graveled lane appeared in the middle of the field. She followed it until she came to the foot of a green hill. There it was, at the top of the hill, a little stone cottage with a wooden fence surrounded by a garden of wildflowers. She'd forgotten about the rose-covered trellis in the yard. Was it a buried memory or a detail she'd filled in herself? Either way, it looked charming. She recorded her observations in the notebook.

It was time to test her control. She focused on the roses, a lovely shade of blush pink, and concentrated on a different color. Slowly they transformed, one by one from bottom to top, to a bright, sapphire blue. She felt a sense of accomplishment and power. Was this what it felt like to be gifted? She pushed her control further, giving the sky a lavender tint. She was only limited by what she could imagine. Yellow grass. Orange stripes on the house. The garden became a small pond with rainbow fish. She was having fun until a deep and familiar voice behind her stopped her short.

"Well this is a colorful scene."

She turned to find Fitz jogging up the lane, wearing a blue button down and a pair of jeans she’d always liked. Was his appearance her doing? Was it really him or was she imagining him? It was hard to tell. She willed her own clothes to change into something more work-appropriate, dark jeans and a simple white blouse with lace detailing at the neckline.

"Do you like it?" she asked. 

"Bit loud for the Scottish countryside, don't you think?" he observed with a half smile.

She scoffed. "You mean the country that invented bagpipes and plaid?"

"Fair enough," he conceded playfully.. "I s'pose I can live with it."

"I thought this would be a good place for us to talk."

He noticed the notebook in her hands. “Are you taking notes?” he asked, amused. She liked this lighter side of him. If only she could see more of it during the daytime.

“I thought I might, yes. For science.” It came out sounding more flirtatious than she’d meant it. She decided she was okay with that.

His smile grew wider. There was a flash of something in his eyes, sweet and hot, but then he cleared his throat and it was replaced with steely determination.

"I want to talk to you, too. But I can't when we’re face to face. I can barely look at you. I get so . . . " She leaned in, waiting for the rest. For once she couldn't predict how he was going to finish his sentence. Apparently, neither did he. The side of his mouth twitched. "I don't know how to be around you anymore, Jemma. This is exactly what I feared. Why I didn't tell you how I felt sooner. I was afraid of ruining our partnership, our friendship. And now I think I have."

As soon as the words left his lips, the purple sky opened up and it started to rain. She was pretty sure it wasn't her doing. Judging by the downcast look on Fitz's face, he had to be the one controlling it. Her notebook became soggy and she let it disintegrate in her hands. It wasn't doing her much good anyway. She pictured a summer day with clear blue skies, but nothing changed. The rain continued to pour.

"You haven't ruined anything," she said, but the growing storm was so loud he couldn't hear her. "Why don't we continue this inside, where it's nice and dry."

She held out her hand. He hesitated for a moment, then took it, letting her lead him up the now muddy path to the cottage, which had returned to its normal slate-grey appearance. They tried the front door, but it wouldn't budge. The back door was locked too. She wasn't well-versed in dream interpretation, but it didn't take an expert to understand the symbolism here. His hunched shoulders and shuffling gait confirmed it. They were stuck outside, getting steadily drenched.

She tried to reach him using his own dream logic. "Why do you think we can’t get inside? What's blocking the doors?"

He shook his head in a vigorous, childlike manner, sending beads of moisture flying in every direction. "I don't know."

"You do know. Think, Fitz."

"This isn't our cottage," he said, disheartened. "This isn't our future. We don't have one."

"But it could be," she reassured him. "You _can_ talk to me. Find a way. I promise, I'll be receptive. I want this too. We just need to be honest with each other. The way we are now."

He stared at her, fat raindrops streaming down his face, or were they tears? His eyes scanned hers, searching for something, then flicked down to her lips. She stepped closer, admiring the way his soaked shirt clung to his chest and arms, defining his lean yet firm muscles. He sniffed and closed the remaining distance between them, hands on his hips, but moved no further. His breath came out in quick, ragged puffs of steam, so close she could feel the warmth on her skin. She could tell he desperately wanted to kiss her, he was just waiting for a sign. So she gave him one, tilting her chin up and closing her eyes. 

At first she felt nothing but the rain peppering her cheeks, but then the sensation was gone and his lips were were sliding against hers, delightfully wet and slippery. Her hands tangled in his damp curls while his ran up from her waist to her shoulders and back down again. She ignored the part of her brain telling her it wasn’t real (but they were both willing it to happen, so maybe part of it was) and enjoyed the feeling of his slick skin pressed up against hers. His mouth was soft but insistent, and she couldn’t wait to compare it to the genuine article. By the time they pulled apart the downpour had stopped, though she'd been too distracted to notice exactly when.

There was something she was supposed to tell him. What was it? Her mind was fogged with desire and affection for the astonishing man in front of her. Her partner, her best friend, _more than that_.

“Do you love me?” she whispered. She could see the answer in his eyes, but she needed to hear it out loud.

He answered without hesitation, pouring a dozen emotions into a single syllable. “Yes.”

“Then I know we’re going to be okay."

“How can you be sure?”

Right. That was it. “Because this isn’t just a dream, Fitz. It’s me. I’m re—”

She woke up with a start, the alarm on her phone beeping loudly on the nightstand next to her. 

She'd meant to tell him the truth earlier, she really had. Keeping it from him felt like lying, and she’d lied to him enough. But she got caught up in the fantasy and then they were kissing in the rain and it was everything. And yes, maybe there was a part of her that wanted to keep the illusion going for as long as possible. In the dreams, they'd managed to break down the barriers between them, but if she told him what was really going on he might build them right back up again. 

The truth would have to wait until after their mission. For now, it was time to go to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys didn't think they'd sort it all out this soon, did you? Next up: THE MISSION (dun dun dun).
> 
> P.S. Kissing in the rain is one of my favorite tropes, so I had to work it in somehow. :D


	6. Fitz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fitz and Jemma go undercover into a Hydra facility to discover the truth about Dr. Ross. Will some time alone also help them sort through their relationship?

Fitz woke up that morning feeling optimistic about this mission. He finally had some uninterrupted time with Jemma away from the prying eyes, and ears, of the rest of the team. If he could point to one downside of being out in the field it was that everyone they worked with was trained to uncover deep, dark secrets. And Fitz knew his feelings for Jemma weren’t exactly secret, so he really appreciated not having an audience as he tried to mend his friendship with her. 

But it was confusing. Even though he knew dreams were just that - dreams - and therefore not actually real, there was a part of him that felt like they were more than that. At the very least his subconscious was trying to tell him something. And his recent experience with his subconscious filling in the Jemma-sized hole in his life had been astonishingly accurate, down to her mannerisms and scientific expertise. 

He had gone to bed last night still hurt by the fact that she hadn’t come to see him after her briefing with Coulson. It was like she had disappeared. The base wasn’t that big so she must have been avoiding him. But now that they were together she wasn’t acting like she had been avoiding him. In fact, she had apologized saying she had spent the entire day preparing for this mission and was acting so much like her old self that he almost forgot she had left him. Almost. Her smile seemed a little forced this morning and she wouldn’t quite meet his eye. Although that could have just been him projecting because he was having trouble meeting her eye after the dreams he’d been having. 

She might just be here because Coulson didn’t believe he could do this on his own. He was the one who had known Dr. Ross best, after all, not her. But she was here. And that must mean something. May could have just come with him if Coulson thought he needed looking after. Or even Trip. But Jemma was the one beside him now. 

Maybe it was time to take his own advice and give her a chance. Maybe they could be friends at least, although the Jemma of his dreams also kissed him in the rain. . .and more. He blushed slightly at the thought and glanced over to where Jemma was reviewing their plan yet again. 

They still had another hour until they landed outside the mountains in northern New Mexico. Dr. Ross was a hard man to track down. Fitz was pretty comfortable with the plan: use their forged credentials to gain access to the lab, talk to Dr. Ross and find out which side he was on, then return to the drop point where May would be waiting for them with the quinjet. But Jemma liked to drill the details into her mind so she wouldn’t freeze under pressure, which gave him time to think. . .about her. 

The possibility that they might be something more was tantalizing, but it was just a possibility and he had a long way to go before he could even consider bringing it up to her again. Friendship first. 

But that didn’t keep him from reliving that kiss from last night in his mind. He had been thinking about kissing her since he’d seen her near that cottage, but it wasn’t until the moment when she had tipped her face up to his that he had allowed himself to indulge. The rain pouring down around them didn’t matter. The fact that they didn’t have a future didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except her. He could almost feel the kiss right now, her lips soft and wet from the rain, and he closed his eyes so he could better enjoy the memory. 

“Fitz, are you alright?”

“Wha-? Yeah. . .f-fine.”

“We’re about to land and then we’ll have to make our way to the facility. It should only be a mile from where May will be waiting for us. Although if something goes wrong a mile might be too long.”

Jemma was talking quickly, her hand fluttering through the air. Out of habit, Fitz reached for her hand and found his a little unsteady as well.

Her hand twitched slightly in his as she registered the contact and then she relaxed, allowing their joined hands to rest in the space between them. Touching her was as familiar as breathing. He had reached for her hand many times over the years. But this also felt different. He was aware of more than just her presence beside him, giving him confidence. He was also aware of how the tips of her fingers danced across his skin and the nervous energy that seemed to exist between them now, which he could feel with every second they tried to keep their hands perfectly still. He had thought this new discomfort had come from the fact that things between them would never be the same. And it was. . .but maybe that wasn’t a bad thing. 

He turned towards her, not sure what to say. But when their eyes met, he didn’t feel like he needed to say anything at all. They had started to descend and May was giving them last-minute instructions. 

“Remember not to contact me until you are outside the facility,” she was saying. “We don’t want anything tripping their security measures.” 

Jemma gave Fitz a crooked smile that he returned. 

“And be careful in there. Your friend could be Hydra.”

“Of course, Agent May.” Jemma responded dutifully. 

His palm started to grow sweaty and he gave her hand a squeeze before letting go. Jemma turned from him to double check the contents of her bag and he pulled their credentials from the envelope on the seat beside him. They were going in as consultants from another Hydra-controlled tech company. From her time undercover Jemma was familiar with how the labs worked together and this cover should get them into the building and in touch with someone who could get them into the lab. 

Inspecting it one last time to make sure it was perfect, Fitz handed Jemma her ID badge. He thought he glimpsed a familiar black box before she sealed the hidden pocket in her bag that held their phones and emergency tracking beacon in case they got into trouble. But there was no reason to bring that on the mission. He wondered what she wasn’t telling him. 

The facility was located just at the edge of town, and they were making their approach from the east, which meant they were passing through the outskirts of town as they walked towards their destination. Fitz was just enjoying the walk out in the sunlight, something he realized he hadn’t done in a long time. Beside him he could hear Jemma mumbling as she cataloged every building they passed. 

“Restaurant. . .motel. . .abandoned building. . .bar.”

It seemed that this section of town was not as populated as the resort located on the other side of town.

Once they reached their goal, Jemma pasted on a huge smile as he opened the door for her and she approached the security guard, a guy about their age with a scruffy beard and what looked like coffee stains on the front of his shirt. 

“ID please,” he said in a bored voice. 

Fitz watched as Jemma turned up the wattage on her smile and handed the man her ID badge, gesturing for Fitz to do the same. 

“Hi. . .Kevin. Dr. Anne Jones and Dr. James Smith. We are here to consult with Dr. Ross.”

The guard - Kevin - looked at Jemma appreciatively. “I’ll just call down to the lab.”

“No!” Jemma practically shouted, looking slightly alarmed. 

“We. . .w-want to surprise him,” Fitz said, shooting a look at Jemma. “For a birthday celebration.”

“I thought Dr. Ross just had a birthday a few weeks ago,” the guard responded in confusion. 

“He did? Yes, of course he did.” Jemma bit her lip. “It’s my birthday!”

Fitz almost groaned out loud, rubbing his forehead with one hand. They weren’t even going to get in the door. Why did he ever agree to going out in the field?

“Well happy birthday, Miss Jones,” he said, sounding considerably more friendly. “You know, I can help you celebrate later. I know the bouncer at the Hideaway so we can get in without paying cover.”

“That would be lovely. And please call me Anne.”

Fitz heard the beeps as their badges were scanned and the door behind them buzzed open.

Looking up he saw Jemma leaning on the counter towards the guard and realized it was probably the view down her shirt that had made him so friendly. 

Fitz felt a stab of irritation and brushed past the guard as he heard Jemma rattle off a phone number that he recognized as Skye’s. That was something at least. 

“Dr. Ross’s lab is at the end of the hallway,” he said. Then in a quieter voice, he added, “And I’ll see _you_ later.”

“Thank you, Kevin. See you later.”

Once he saw Jemma was behind him, he allowed the door to slam shut, and quickly made his way down the hall. 

“Fitz!” Jemma hissed at him. “Slow down!”

Fitz stopped to wait for her, realizing he was about to blow the mission because he was jealous of a security guard Jemma didn’t even give her real number to. 

“I hope Skye doesn’t mind getting a call from Kevin.” Jemma was smiling at him, and he couldn’t help but give a small chuckle. 

“Let’s find Dr. Ross and get out of here,” Fitz said, looking down the institutional white hallway. 

Jemma reached up to rub the spot on her neck again, just like she had when they were talking the day before. That was the same spot where. . .but that wasn’t possible. 

He gave his head a small shake to clear his mind of the remnants of his dreams. But Jemma had already noticed his distraction. 

“Fitz, is everything okay?” she asked quietly. “You can talk to me if you need to. About anything.”

She sounded so much like his dream girl it was uncanny. Even the words were the same. There was so much he wanted to say, but now was not the time. 

“Later,” he said, nodding towards the doorway at the end of the hall. 

Satisfied that they were both ready, they walked side-by-side until they reached the door. Pushing it open, Fitz found himself face-to-face with Dr. Ross, who let out a strangled sound of surprise. 

He looked much the same as Fitz remembered, though his hair had grown longer and was standing up in odd tufts, like he couldn’t be bothered to use a comb. His face also looked more haggard, but that could have been due to the overly bright fluorescent lights flooding the stark white room. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, licking his lips. 

“We are here to consult,” Fitz responded cautiously. Dr. Ross didn’t look like he was in trouble, but there was no way to be sure. 

“I have to say,” Dr. Ross added smoothly, “I didn’t expect to see you two. I thought I’d rate more . . . qualified consultants.”

Fitz and Jemma looked at each other, confused, and Fitz silently willed her to follow his lead. Something was wrong here. 

“We have a team. We just came ahead to talk to you first,” Fitz lied. 

“We just. . .wanted to see what kind of technology you’ve been working on,” Jemma interjected with a smile. 

“No.” Dr. Ross snapped back, sounding suspicious now. “You want to know where my loyalties lie. I’m loyal to Hydra, of course.”

“Are you?” Jemma asked, looking him straight in the eye now, apparently not willing to cede control of this conversation. 

Fitz felt his unease rise and swept his eyes around the room looking for potential threats and taking note of the second door on the opposite side of the lab. 

“Are you threatening me, Doctor, uh, Jones, is it?” He furrowed his brow at them as if deep in thought. “I can hit the panic button under my lab table and have security here in two minutes.”

For some reason Ross was warning them. Did that mean he was loyal to S.H.I.E.L.D? Or was he really Hydra? Fitz forced his attention back to the conversation at hand.

“So then what do you know about covert, long-distance communication?” Jemma asked. 

Dr. Ross stared wide-eyed at Jemma, apparently every bit as baffled by the question as he was. Fitz thought for a moment that Ross might do something to hurt her, and he shifted his body so he could push her out of the way. Not that she needed him to do that. 

But, instead, Dr. Ross said slowly, “I wouldn’t know anything about that. . .but if you are looking for answers it wouldn’t hurt to be more _mindful_ about it.”

Fitz had no idea what that was supposed to mean or why Jemma was acting so strangely and was about to say as much when he saw Dr. Ross’s hand move towards the panic button he had mentioned earlier.

“Why are you asking so many questions anyway? You aren’t consultants. You are with S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Ross said dramatically before pressing the button under the table. 

“Time to go,” Fitz yelled, grabbing Jemma’s arm and pulling her towards the door at the back of the lab. They had just entered a service corridor, more dimly lit than the one that had taken them into the lab, when the alarm began to sound. Straight ahead of them Fitz saw the orange-red glow of the exit sign. 

“This way,” he said, continuing to pull Jemma along with him. 

Not knowing what to expect when they reached the end of the hallway, Fitz pushed the door open experimentally and was surprised when it opened without complaint into an alley leading away from the building. That seemed like a lucky break, but Fitz could already hear the pounding of feet behind them. 

Fitz wanted to put as much distance between them and whoever was chasing them, but Jemma was already moving to jam the door so they wouldn’t be as easily followed. 

They started running again, and when the reached sunlight at the end of the alley, Fitz turned towards the drop point, but Jemma grabbed his hand to stop him and tugged him in the other direction. 

“This way.”

There was no time to argue - and he trusted her implicitly - so he followed without comment, the only sounds the blood rushing through his head, his own ragged breathing, and their shoes on the sidewalk. 

But the further they ran, the more sounds he heard. Cars. Laughter. Forks clinking as tourists enjoyed their meals in the cafes that lined the street. They must be in the resort area on the opposite side of town. 

“Now all we have to do is blend in,” Jemma said triumphantly.

They walked quickly through town, but not quickly enough to raise suspicion. But as he watched the other couples, he realized they were going to have to do better than walking stiffly side-by-side if they were going to pass as tourists on holiday.

“Je-Jemma?” She stopped scanning the crowd and looked at him. “I think we should hold, uh, h-hands.”

“Oh.” She seemed surprised and he cursed himself for feeling embarrassed. 

“For c-co. . .to blend in,” he said, gesturing to the couple in front of them. 

“Of course,” she agreed, a look on her face that he couldn’t quite decipher, and reached for his hand, entwining their fingers. This new position brought her closer to his side and he could almost feel the tension radiating from her. 

A few meters ahead there was a smaller side street and Fitz lifted their joined hands to point it out to her. Even if he didn’t know much about being in the field, he knew it would be easier for them to tell if they were being followed if they moved out of the flow of the crowd. 

They meandered down the street and Jemma leaned into his side, resting her head against his shoulder.

They paused in front of a shop window and scanned the reflection looking for anything out of place. 

Fitz was just starting to relax when he saw him. Kevin. Thankfully he was alone. Their pursuers must have split up to cover more ground. But there was no way the security guard wouldn’t recognize Jemma — or her blouse for that matter. 

Without really thinking, Fitz pushed Jemma into the shadowed doorway of the building they were standing next to. The ornate brick facade of the building completely hid her from view. 

“Kevin. He’s behind us. I-I’m sorry,” he murmured, wrapping his arms tightly around her and pressing his lips to hers. His eyes closed as their lips touched and he tried not to groan out loud at the feel of her in his arms. Her lips were soft beneath his and she opened her mouth, darting her tongue against his lips as her hands crept up to his shoulders. 

There was a thud as Jemma dropped her bag at their feet and wrapped her arms around his neck, and he took a step towards her into the shadows until she was completely trapped between the door and his body. 

Her tongue was insistent and he let her take the lead, Or she took it herself. Who really cared as long as she was here. He wanted more. He wanted to explore all of her. 

He swept his tongue into her mouth to see if she was as sweet as he imagined in his dreams. In response, Jemma pushed her hips against him, trying to get even closer. They parted for air and Fitz dropped his head to his favorite spot on her neck, and felt her shiver as his lips moved over her skin. 

It was at that moment he remembered they were on the run from Hydra, in a very public place. . .and that this wasn’t real. 

He lifted his head from her neck, grimacing at the small red mark he had left on her pale skin, and was caught by her slightly unfocused stare before his gaze dropped to her kiss-swollen lips. So maybe it was a little real. 

Kevin didn’t appear to be near them anymore, but Fitz had been so distracted that he had no idea if they were still in danger. Some field agent he was. 

“Are they still following us?” Jemma asked, pulling down on his shoulders for leverage so she could see. It should have been awkward that she was still clinging to him and his hands were now resting on her hips, but it felt natural like they had always been like this. His hand was unsteady and he removed it from her body and stepped back, breaking the spell they were under. 

“I, ah, don’t think so.” He cleared his throat. 

“We should contact May and let her know we might need to take off quickly,” he said, forcing his voice to stay even.

“Oh! My bag.”

Jemma dropped down to pick up her bag from where it had fallen, and in the cramped space rested her hand on his thigh to keep her balance. He sucked in a breath and knew she must have felt his muscles twitch under her touch. He reached for her hand to help her back up and she pulled her phone from the hidden compartment. 

Powering it up and quickly tapping out her passcode, still his birthday he noted, they were greeted with a string of texts. 

May: Emergency mission. Coulson needs backup.  
Skye: Who is Kevin?  
Skye: He just sent me a very inappropriate pic  
Skye: I think I need to disinfect my eyes now!!!  
Coulson: We are going dark. Find a safe place and hold tight for tonight. 

They stared at the phone and then at each other, the reality of their situation beginning to sink in. 

“Hydra is looking for us and no one is coming,” Fitz said dully. 

“They probably think we are long gone by now,” Jemma replied, laying a hand on his arm. “As long as we stay out of sight we’ll be fine.”

Her voice was soothing, but he could tell she was worried too. 

“So we have to spend the night?” He asked in what he hoped was a normal tone. “There is a resort around here, yeah?”

“No.” She paused. “I mean, yes there is. But we can’t go there. I’m sure they will be looking for us there. They know we headed this way. . .and we can’t risk running a credit card.”

“Oh.” Fitz knew he must look disappointed. The prospect of spending the night outside was not appealing to him. 

“But we did pass a motel earlier. It was a little out of the way and it looked like they might not ask too many questions.” She glanced sideways at him. “I think we have enough cash for one room.”

Jemma looked at him hopefully and he tried to school his features into something resembling neutrality. Which was difficult given the fact that she had just suggested they share a motel room.

“Okay.” He blew out a breath. “So we circle back around? We’ll have to—“

“—wait until it gets dark, yes,” Jemma finished. 

Hours later, the sun long since falling behind the mountains surrounding town, they found themselves standing at the check-in counter at _The Last Resort_ , the seedist motel Fitz had ever seen. Not that he’d actually seen a lot of motels. 

They provided their fake identification and the clerk leered at Jemma when she asked to pay in cash. What did he think they were. . .oh. 

But Jemma didn’t bat an eye. Not at the suggestive looks, or the fact that the only available room had a single bed, or even at the mention of “magic fingers.” What the hell were “magic fingers”?

“Have a pleasant stay, Miss Jones,” the desk clerk said in an oily voice. 

“It’s not Miss Jones. . .it’s Dr. Jones.”

With that, Jemma led Fitz back outside and to the door marked with a 12. As she pulled him towards their room, Jemma leaned close to him and whispered, “Don’t be grumpy, Fitz. We have enough cash left to order a pizza.”

Once the room had been checked for bugs - both listening devices and actual bugs - and the pizza had been consumed, Fitz and Jemma sat side-by-side on the bed, the only reasonably clean space in the room. 

Jemma covered a yawn with the back of her hand. It had been a long and eventful day, and now that the adrenaline had worn off Fitz was feeling every bit as tired as Jemma sounded. 

“I can sleep on the floor,” he offered. 

“That’s ridiculous, Fitz. I already told you the floor is filthy. We can both sleep in the bed.”

Fitz looked skeptically at the single bed, but didn’t say anything. They had been getting along really well and he didn’t want to fight with her. Plus, his mind was still replaying their kiss on a loop and it was making it difficult to concentrate on anything else. 

“I’m just going to get cleaned up and go to bed,” she said with another yawn. 

Fitz heard the shower run for a few minutes and then she was back. She was dressed in her clothes again, except rather than her blouse she was wearing a tank top that he realized she must have been wearing underneath. 

“I can’t sleep in my jeans.”

It took a moment for his foggy brain to understand her words. When he did, he spun around to face the bathroom door and stammered, “I. . .uh, j-just. Yeah.”

Behind him Jemma said quietly, “When you’re done we need to talk.”

Fitz practically slammed the bathroom door closed behind him and locked the door. She wanted to talk to him while they were in bed together mostly undressed? He was going to need a very cold shower before _that_ conversation. 

But once he emerged from the bathroom it was to find Jemma already asleep. He climbed in beside her, relieved that there would be no more talking tonight. There was something his mind was trying to unravel and he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. 

As he settled into the small space, he thought he heard Jemma say his name, but when he turned to face her she was still asleep. She must have been restless though because she rolled towards him and he had to wrap an arm around her to keep from being pushed out of the bed. 

Settling them into a more comfortable position, his arm now wrapped around her and her head tucked onto his shoulder, he allowed himself to drop a single kiss to her temple. 

He closed his eyes, trying to relax, and his mind was flooded with thoughts. Jemma undercover at Hydra, the familiar feel of her kiss, the way he had pictured her in his dreams even after being apart for so long. But that meant…

Fitz looked across the crowded restaurant, feeling a little uncomfortable in a suit and tie. But when he saw Jemma sitting at a table across the room, candlelight spilling across her face, he relaxed and smoothed a hand down over his jacket before walking towards her. 

“I was wondering when you’d get here,” she said with a smile. 

He leaned down to give her a kiss and then sat across from her at the table. She reached out to take his hand and he saw the sparkle of the diamond ring. 

“You _are_ mine,” he said smugly, feeling a surge of possessiveness and twisting the ring back and forth on her finger. 

She didn’t argue with him, just rolled her eyes. 

“Dance with me?”

He nodded and they were back in the Boiler Room, like they had been many times in their first few years as friends. But now they were grown up and Jemma was in his arms and it was nothing like before. She tilted her face to his and he captured her lips in a kiss. 

Realization finally dawned on him. 

“It’s you.”

“Of course it’s me, Fitz.” She tilted her head to the side. “Who else would it be?”

“No. . .I mean, you’re _you_. You’re really here. That’s why it feels different.”

She didn’t respond, just looked at him as if unsure what to say. Which was odd, because Jemma always had something to say. 

“How is this possible?” It was the first question that popped into his head, but he thought it was a good one. 

“I think it’s the box I showed you. The one I brought back from Hydra.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know. . .not at first anyway.” 

She took a step back, putting some space between them, and the noise of the crowd faded. They were back in the motel room, standing beside the bed, even though he knew they must still be asleep. 

“Once I realized what was happening I tried to tell you, I just didn’t know how when we were awake. . .and when we weren’t awake I didn’t because everything was so perfect.” 

Jemma reached for his hand. 

“I’m so sorry. I know I was changing your dreams and making you do things. . .”

His mind was busy processing her words, but his mouth opened of its own volition. 

“Jemma. . .those were my dreams. You were in my dreams, so if anyone should apologize it’s me.”

“Don’t you see, Fitz? It was your dream when it started. And it was sweet and romantic. . .but I’m the one who brought us here.”

Fitz looked around, trying to figure out why she would be upset. 

“What’s wrong with this? We _are_ here,” he pointed out. 

She gestured vaguely at the bed and he finally understood. “Oh. . .I wanted to take you on a date and all you wanted was to get me into bed?” Fitz was secretly pleased at the direction of her thoughts, but he laughed, trying to put her at ease. “I’m clearly the more romantic of the two of us.”

“Ugh, Fitz. It’s just that I need to figure out how you feel about this. So I know what to do when we wake up.”

He wasn’t sure he had any other words than the ones he has already told her, but it was worth another try. 

“I love you, Jemma Simmons.”

And then he pulled her down on the bed so they were facing each other and kissed her. It started off light and gentle, just the brush of his lips against hers. Then with a sigh she shifted closer and her tongue was demanding, licking across his bottom lip before pushing into his mouth. They stayed like that for minutes or hours, he couldn’t really tell. 

Knowing she was real and that she wanted this too set fire racing through his veins. He couldn’t get close enough to her and he slotted his leg between hers, closing any distance that was still remaining between them. 

Then she was pushing against his shoulder and he rolled to his back, feeling the rough fabric of the sheets on his skin when he moved and the weight of her body on top of his. 

Their kisses became more urgent and his shaking hands traveled slowly down her back before coming to rest on the small of her back, no longer sure of where their boundaries were. 

Jemma’s lips left his and she trailed kisses down his neck while her fingertips skimmed across his stomach. The only sounds in the room were small sighs and their uneven breathing. And then there was another sound. The pinging of a phone. 

It didn’t sound distant, like it was waking him from a dream. It sounded like it was coming from next to the bed. He tried to ignore it because Jemma had just rested her knees on either side of his thighs and in this new position he could feel her heat, and the small movements she was making with her hips were making it hard to care about anything else. 

But then the sound came again and Fitz reached one hand to grab the phone from the nightstand. Using his momentum he sat up, Jemma still on his lap. She wrapped her legs around his waist and scooted closer, pushing up the hem of his T-shirt at the same time. 

“Jemma. . .”

“What’s wrong?”

“I love you.”

Her hands stopped tracing across his ribs and rested there, rising and falling with each breath he took. 

“Well, that’s okay then. I love you too.”

“Good. Because I think we are awake,” he said, handing her the phone that now showed several messages from May.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and there you have it! The mission didn't go exactly as planned, but Fitz and Jemma successfully took their relationship from their dreams into real life.


	7. Jemma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our couple is in a much better place now that they know what's going on, but they still have questions that need answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be my last chapter (though you still get one more from Libby!) and I've gotta admit, I'm feeling a little emotional about it. I want to take this opportunity to thank LibbyWeasley for being the best writing partner I could ever have hoped for and to let you all know how much I've appreciated all the love and support we've gotten for this story. It's been so uplifting, I can't even tell you. You guys are awesome!

May had already landed and was waiting for Fitz and Jemma in the quinjet just outside of town by the time they got her texts. Only the increasingly concerned tone of the messages and the threat of one of her patented steely looks could have torn them away from the bliss of their dingy motel room that morning. As ugly and unsanitary as it was, Jemma loved that room. It was the place where she and Fitz had transitioned seamlessly from the dream state to the real world, and from what they were in the past to what she hoped they would be from now on. The smile he’d given her when he’d tricked her into confessing her love while they were awake was written on her heart in permanent ink.

They walked back to the plane together in silence, but there was no awkwardness in it. Every few steps or so Fitz would reach out and touch her, rubbing circles on her lower back or gently bumping his shoulder into hers or squeezing her hand, as if to reassure himself that she was really there. Each time, she leaned into the contact, catching his contagious grin. The closer they got to their destination, though, the more distance grew between them, wedging them apart, both physically and emotionally. They hadn’t had time to talk about what would happen when they got back to the base, but now that they were finally on the same page, she hoped this mutually initiated separation was only temporary until they could be alone again.

They had a long journey ahead of them before that was even a remote possibility, though. On the plane they took seats across from one another. Fitz seemed lost in his own thoughts, but the few times he did glance her way she saw so much love and affection in his eyes it made her insides twist. She’d always been fond of the the little crinkle he got between his eyebrows when he was concentrating, and the way he was stroking his stubbly chin with his index finger was surely going to drive her mad. He looked positively kissable, and now that she knew his kisses were hers for the taking, the temptation was even harder to resist. She'd been distracted by the images from her dreams before, but this was a whole new level of torture. 

They went straight from the hangar to Coulson’s office, slipping into S.H.I.E.L.D. agent mode as easily as they’d slipped from dreams to reality. Surely they could manage to be professional for one meeting with their boss, even if it was to deliver bad news. Although the mission had given them a chance to conquer their personal obstacles, it had been otherwise a bust and she doubted the director would be as thrilled about the change in their relationship as they were.

May went in first for a private word with Coulson, leaving Jemma and Fitz to wait outside the door. The delay was agonizing. He rocked on his heels, hands bracing his back, staring straight ahead, while she buried her head in the notes she’d brought along. By the time May called them in a few minutes later, they were both practically vibrating with nervous energy.

“Sorry your return flight got delayed,” Coulson said as soon as they took their places in front of his desk.

“It’s fine,” Fitz said.

“Not a problem,” Jemma said, talking over him.

She successfully kept herself from glancing his way, but couldn’t help the smile that ghosted her lips. Coulson didn’t seem to notice.

“Couldn’t be avoided, but I’m glad you both made it back okay. What have you got for me?”

“Not much I’m afraid,” she said. “Dr. Ross was rather uncooperative.”

“He kept insisting he was . . . um . . .” Fitz circled his hands, looking to Jemma to fill in the word for him. 

“Loyal,” she said, barely skipping a beat.

“Yes. Loyal. To Hydra. But something felt off.”

“Off how?”

“We think he’s being watched, or at least he suspects it,” Jemma supplied. “He called security on us, but gave us ample warning to get out before they caught us. He could still be on our side.”

“Or he’s on his own side. I thought maybe a couple of friendly faces might win him over, but we’ll have to find another way in.”

“If I may ask sir, why is Ross so important?” Jemma said.

“We know Hydra has been communicating through coded channels, but we haven’t been able to crack them so far. I believe Dr. Ross may be able to help with that.”

“Is there . . . anything else we could do, sir?” She knew Fitz didn’t like to lose, and coming back from the mission empty handed felt like a loss. She loved how devoted he was to the team and his eagerness to contribute something of value.

“That’s all for now. I’ll let you know if anything comes up.”

Knowing that was as much of a dismissal as they were going to get, they left the office without another word.

Once they were out in the hallway, Jemma wanted nothing more than to invite Fitz back to her room and continue the activities of that morning, but she couldn’t seem to get the words out. Fortunately, this time he was the one to fill them in for her.

“Well, Dr. Simmons.” He rubbed his hands together, looking around at the other agents going about their business around the base. “Do you have time to go over the . . . uh . . . mission debrief now?”

“Yes, Dr. Fitz. I think that would be a prudent use of our time,” she said in her most professional tone.

“Good. Yeah. Good. Um.” He took a moment to let a pair of agents pass, then pursed his lips and threw out casually, “My quarters?”

It took a focused effort to hide her elation at the suggestion. “Brilliant. Lead the way.”

As each step brought them closer to being alone again together, all her old worries came back to haunt her. What if they couldn’t recapture what they had in the motel room? What if the dreams were the only place where they could be honest with each other? And now that they both knew their conversations there had consequences in the real world, maybe they wouldn’t even have that anymore. She guessed by the way his hands were shaking at his side that he was having some of the same troubling thoughts. 

“So. . .” he said as soon as she shut the door.

“So . . .” she responded, because she couldn’t think of anything else to say.

He cleared his throat. She folded her hands in front of her. Neither of them said anything more.

Then, just as she was beginning to give up hope that things could ever be normal between them again, he spoke. “So I had the craziest dream last night.”

“Really?” she said, playing along. “What a coincidence. So did I.”

“Followed by the. . . uh . . . best . . . morning of my life.” His voice was a reverent whisper, his face a tender shade of pink.

“How about that? Me too.” Feeling bold, she added suggestively, “At least, the best so far.”

She was rewarded with a beaming smile. He stepped forward and circled her waist with his arms, bringing her even closer. They both went in for a kiss at the exact same time and she felt a quick, sharp pain as they bumped foreheads.

“Ouch!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, wincing and brushing his thumb over her skin where they’d collided. “Are you okay? You should know I’m not . . . it’s different when I’m awake.”

“I know. It’s okay. I’m fine. Really, Fitz.”

It wasn’t perfect. But it was real, and that was so much better.

"Do you think we should tell Coulson?" Fitz wondered aloud.

"About . . . ?" She gestured back and forth between them.

He nodded. "I’d prefer to keep this . . . to ourselves for now. But it’s up to you."

She considered it. "I agree. Although it’s such a small base and I don't know how it won't be completely obvious to anyone with eyes."

"Just try not to ogle me at work and we'll be fine," he teased.

"Then I'll have to get all my ogling out of the way in private." 

She smiled wickedly, and he returned it tenfold. His love for her was blinding. He made her feel so safe, so steady, so wanted. This time she waited for him to dip his head first, and met his lips with a contented sigh. She was quickly becoming addicted to the rush of being in his embrace. Kissing him in the real world felt so different than in the dreams, headier and more intense. The physical sensations of his taste and smell and touch almost overwhelmed her. How had she survived so long without this? It was like seeing in color when everything before had been black and white.

It was a long time before they separated, breathless and giddy. Fitz clasped her hands in his and placed gentle kisses on her knuckles. The lightness in her chest bubbled up her throat and came out in a cascade of laughter.

"Well, private time _aside_ ,” Fitz said, letting go of her hands, “I hate letting Coulson down.”

“Oh, I think he was pulling for us as much as anyone. I wouldn’t be surprised if this whole mission was just a ploy to get us to work things out on our own.”

“No, not . . . I meant . . . I was talking about our failure with Ross.” He paused and looked at her thoughtfully. “You think Coulson was pulling for us?”

“Definitely.” 

Just then, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She took it out and found a text from an unknown number. 

“What’s it say?” asked Fitz, seeing the look of confusion on her face.

“It’s gibberish. Just a bunch of letters: ‘lxwxh.’ Must be a misdial.”

“Let me see.” Jemma handed Fitz the phone. 

He looked at it for a few seconds, then his face lit up. “What if it’s not ‘x?.’ What if it’s ‘times?’”

“Length times width times height. Fitz! It’s the formula for calculating--”

They came to the conclusion simultaneously: “The volume of a cube.”

“I think there might be a way to get through to Dr. Ross after all."

He pulled away and gave her a cautious look, as if he knew she was about to suggest something crazy. Which, of course, she was. 

"Jemma.” He shook his head. "No. It's too . . . too . . . risky. We don't even know how the box works."

"We know enough. Yesterday, Ross said to be more _mindful_. I think he wanted me to use it. And then the text. He has to be the one who sent it."

"You think he wants you to . . . go into his dreams?"

"It makes sense. That’s basically what the box was designed for."

"Maybe I should—"

She cut him off before he could continue the thought. "No. It has to be me. If he is signaling that he wants me to use it, he'll be thinking about me before he goes to sleep. That's how I connected with you."

"You were thinking about me?" She almost laughed at the childlike look of wonder on his face.

"Every single day I was gone."

He tilted his head thoughtfully. "I was thinking about you too."

"I suspected as much. My working hypothesis is that we were thinking of each other at the same time and somehow the box made the connection."

"That doesn’t sound very scientific."

"I know, but it's my best guess. And we've come across even stranger tech over the years, haven’t we?"

"So whose dream was it, mine or yours?"

"Both, I think. It's like our REM waves were synchronized." 

"So that's why the dreams felt different. You were . . . affecting them."

"I'm not the one who dragged us back to your room. Twice." 

He laughed. "Well, it wasn't just me. We ended up in your room too. And you know what happened that time."

His words brought back in vivid detail everything that had happened that time. Her earlier brazenness evaporated and she turned away so he couldn’t see the blush that was surely coloring her cheeks. 

"Hey, hey,” he said, lifting her chin with one finger. “No more hiding. From now on, we’re totally honest with each other, okay? Day _and_ night.” 

“Okay. I promise,” she said with conviction.

“Me too. And just so you know,” he guided her mouth to his and placed a brisk kiss there, “I don’t regret it.”

She closed her eyes. “I was afraid you’d be angry with me.” 

Although she couldn’t see it, she could almost hear his lips curling up into an amused grin. “Angry? Why?”

When she opened her eyes, his face was almost exactly as she’d pictured it. “Because I kind of invaded your mind? Inadvertently, but still. And I didn’t tell you as soon as I found out what was going on. Although, I was planning to that last time. I just got . . . sidetracked.”

“You did say it was mutual.”

“I believe it was, but I wasn’t sure you’d see it that way.”

He enveloped her in a warm, tender hug, and she knew in that moment her true home wasn’t a cottage in Scotland, but right there, in his arms.  
“For two people who are so in synch,” he whispered to the top of her head. “We are rubbish at communicating.”

She laughed and felt an echoing rumble in his chest. Then she heard a rumble of a different sort coming from his stomach and remembered they hadn’t eaten anything since the pre-packaged muffins they’d grabbed from the motel vending machine that morning on their way out of town. It was already well past dinner time, so she suggested they grab a bite in the kitchen and come up with a strategy for reaching out to Ross. Fitz, being Fitz, readily agreed.

As it turned out, they didn’t get much strategizing done. Instead, they shared stories from the past six months over toasted cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, an old standby for late-night study sessions dating back to their Academy days. The common area was empty, but they were cautious about showing too much outward affection where anyone could walk in on them, not to mention the security cameras. Jemma was surprised at how easy it was to fall back into their familiar partnership, almost as if nothing had changed. She still felt the pull of desire that had tormented her on the quinjet all the way home, but it was just background noise compared to the sweet relief of getting her best friend back. They would always have this, she realized, but now there would be kissing too. And probably more. It was the best of all possible worlds.

By the time they finished it was late enough in New Mexico for Ross to have gone to sleep for the night. They returned to Fitz’s room to retrieve her bag, where the box was still hidden away. After placing it on the nightstand she turned to Fitz, who had a strange look on his face.

“Were you planning . . .” he began, scratching behind his ear and looking everywhere but at her. “I mean. If . . . if . . . you want to . . . you could . . . do you want to do it here?”

She bit her lip to keep from laughing as he realized his phrasing and rushed to correct himself. “ _Sleep_ , I mean. You know . . . with the . . . the . . . box. Did you want to do the dream . . . thing . . . in my . . . in here?”

Whether his stammering was due to his injury or his nerves, she couldn’t be sure. Either way, she found it completely endearing. 

“Oh, stop bloody smirking at me like that, Simmons. You know damn well what I meant.” Despite the coarse words, his tone was light and affectionate.

“Would that be all right, though?” she said, suddenly hesitant. “If I spent the night here?”

“Of course.” He reached out to caress her arm, then slid his hand down, intertwining their fingers. “You didn’t think I was going to make you go through this alone, did you?”

“Okay. Just let me grab a few things and get ready.”

As soon as she left him it occurred to her that they hadn’t been apart since they’d left for the mission the day before. How strange that in the span of less than 48 hours she’d become so accustomed to his presence she only noticed the lack of it when they separated. She may have proven to herself it was possible to survive without Fitz for six months, but that didn’t mean she wanted to repeat the experiment, even on a short-term basis. 

Feeling anxious to get back to him, she changed into sweats and a loose tank top, brushed her teeth, washed her face, and gathered some clothes and toiletries for the next day. After a brief stop in the lab to pick up the sleeping pills and some water, she returned to his room to find him ready for bed himself in his usual boxers and T-shirt. It was a rare treat to see him out of his work clothes, and now she’d had the privilege twice in as many days. She looked forward to the sight becoming much more common.

But for now it was time to put her theories to the test. 

Fitz stood on the opposite side of the bed and helped her peel back the covers, watching her with wary eyes. "Is it weird that I'm a little jealous you're sharing dreams with someone else now?"

"Dreams are nice, but nothing compared to the real thing," she reminded him. To prove her point, she crawled across the bed, then rose up onto her knees to kiss him. She intended it to be soft and simple, but between her own simmering passion and his breathtaking enthusiasm, it became something much more. The mattress dipped as they both sank down onto it without breaking the kiss. Before either of them knew what was happening, she had rolled them over so she could enjoy the feel of him solid beneath her. She ran her tongue across his lips, craving more. She couldn’t get enough of him.

He was the one who brought them back down to earth. “Jemma?” His voice was a muffled whisper against her lips. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but we have to stop.”

“Don’t want to,” she said into his mouth.

He withdrew, laughing, and cupped her cheek. “Trust me, I don’t want to either, but we need to get to Ross while he’s still asleep.”

The mention of Dr. Ross was all she needed to curb her libido. She twisted off of him with a huff. “Fine, fine.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” he said. She tell by the heat in his steady gaze that he had every intention of keeping his word, and her body quivered in anticipation. 

“You’d bloody well better,” she said in a tone she hoped was both credibly threatening and flirtatious. For an extended moment he froze, like a computer unable to process a massive surge of data. The only part of him that moved was his Adam’s apple, bobbing up and down in his throat. So he liked this playfully assertive side of her. Interesting.

He couldn’t change the subject fast enough. “So, how does this work, then? You think about him and he thinks about you and box does the rest?"

"If my hypothesis is correct, yes. This will knock me out.” She took a sleeping pill from the nightstand where she’d set it out earlier and downed it with a few gulps of water. “The box originally emitted a specialized sleeping mist, but I don't have time to reverse engineer it."

"How long does it take to connect?"

"I’m not sure exactly. It should take at least ninety minutes to enter the first REM cycle. After that, it could be minutes or hours. Wake me up just before sunrise. That should give us enough time."

"Don't worry. I'll be right here next to you the whole time." He stroked her hair, soothing her all the way down to her toes.

“For the record, I’m choosing to interpret you wanting to watch me sleep as sweet and not creepy.”

He chuckled and placed a kiss on her forehead. “Good night, Jemma.”

“Good night, Fitz.”

She gave him a slow, fuzzy smile, but then remembered she was supposed to be thinking of Dr. Ross as she fell asleep. It wasn't going to be easy with Fitz looking at her like that, so she closed her eyes and focused her concentration on the mission and her target.

The white lab looked just like the one they'd visited the day before, right down to the excessively bright lighting. She knew she had arrived in Ross’s dream, though she couldn't explain exactly how. It felt different than the ones she'd shared with Fitz. Those had certain sense memories attached to them, like visiting her childhood bedroom. The two of them had so many overlapping experiences it was hard to tell where her memories ended and his began. With Dr. Ross, though, it was like visiting a foreign country where she didn't speak the language. She didn't try to test her control this time. She sensed she had less of it here.

The scientist had his back to her, making calculations on a white board attached to the far wall. He turned around casually when he heard her come in, not at all surprised to see her there.

"Ah, Agent Simmons. You made it," he said.

"I got your message," she said cautiously. 

"And you somehow figured out how to use the box without any instructions. Impressive."

"Are you ready to talk now?"

"Right. Yes. Sorry I couldn't say anything earlier. Since Hydra took over I can't be sure whether I'm being monitored, so I always assume I am. It's precisely the type of scenario the dreamweaver was created to circumvent."

"Dreamweaver?"

"I didn't come up with the name. That was the marketing department. But it never moved beyond the prototype stage anyway."

"How did you know I had it?"

"I make it my business to keep tabs on all of Hydra's communications. A few weeks ago I intercepted a coded message referencing your involvement in the Donnie Gill mission. Knowing you would never betray S.H.I.E.L.D. I assumed you were working undercover, so I planted the seeds. I mentioned the box to my superiors in passing, and told them it had been in storage at the Fridge. Then I hinted that all they needed was a talented biochemist to unlock its secrets. I took a risk, hoping they'd assign you to it."

"But then why alter the device? Why get Fitz's attention?"

"I hoped that one or both of you might perceive my intentions. You two were quite inseparable back at Sci-Ops, as I recall. The legendary FitzSimmons. I didn’t expect you’d both show up in person, though."

They had been inseparable once. And maybe now they would be again. Hope bloomed in her chest at the thought of her once and future partner, watching vigil over her in the real world.

"Well, it worked. We found you. Now what?"

"There is something I need. Something only S.H.I.E.L.D. can provide. Even in its current state, it's still my best shot."

"What do you need?"

"Protection."

She gave him a patronizing smile. "S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't a private security firm, doctor. You know that’s not what we do."

"What if I offered something in exchange? Intel on what Hydra is up to? The key to their communication codes? That could be useful, could it not?"

She was careful not to reveal her hand too soon. S.H.I.E.L.D. needed him as much as he needed them, but they were in a better position to negotiate if he didn’t know that. "I can’t make any promises, but I’ll bring it up with the director."

"Wonderful." He sat in the chair behind his desk and put his feet up on it, ankles crossed. He motioned for her to make herself comfortable as well and she perched on a stool across from him. "Now, tell me. How did you get the box to work? We had a devil of a time calibrating it back at Con Tech. Temperamental thing."

"I don't really know. I think I activated it accidentally the first time. And then it worked for four nights after that as well. The last time I used it I knew what I was doing, more or less."

"How did you replicate the mist?"

"I didn't."

He removed his legs from atop the desk and leaned forward, hands folded. "Extraordinary."

"What is?"

"The reason we never developed it beyond the prototype is that it was unreliable. We tested multiple pairings with a number of variables and could never duplicate the results from one test to the next. Something about the synchronicity of the REM frequencies. No two ever lined up exactly. But you say you were able to connect for five consecutive nights without even using the mist? And that it was, for the most part, unintentional? For that kind of connection your brain waves would have to be completely aligned at the exact point of entry into the dream state. The chances of that are astronomical."

She had to laugh. When it came to her and Fitz, the chances of that were actually pretty good. He was only confirming what she had already surmised. As it turned out, she and Fitz weren't just metaphorically on the same wavelength. Skye had been right, in a manner of speaking. They actually were psychically linked. She couldn't wait to tell him. She’d probably hold off on telling Skye, though.

Dr. Ross took a long breath and set his jaw. "There's something else, Agent Simmons. You’re going to find out eventually, but I think it would be better if it came from me."

She braced herself for what could only be bad news. "What's that?"

"I knew," he said darkly. "I knew Hydra had infiltrated S.H.I.E.L.D. long before it fell. I've been intercepting their communications for years. But I was too afraid to say anything. That's why I left Sci-Ops for the private sector. I didn't want to get mixed up in all that, and I didn't know who to trust. I just wanted to do my work in peace. So I ran away. I was a coward, and because of that people died. Funny thing is, I ended up working for Hydra anyway."

He let out a dry laugh and shook his head. She didn’t find it funny at all. Ward and Garrett and all the other Hydra traitors had been hiding for so long in plain sight. How much pain and suffering could have been avoided if only Ross had shared what he knew with the right people? She thought about Fitz lying in a hospital bed, unconscious, for those terrible nine days. Their newfound romance was a wondrous thing, but even that couldn't make up for all they'd lost on their way to it. And this man could have prevented it. Could have, and didn't. She was beginning to question why she should help him at all.

The papers in the lab started swirling around her, caught up in the whirlwind of her emotions. She wanted to wake up, to walk away and never look back. Let Hydra have him. But then they would have his inventions too, and if she let that happen, she’d be no better than he was. As much as she would have preferred to leave him to rot, she couldn’t neglect her oath as an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. 

“Agent Simmons, are you all right?”

She swallowed her anger and drew in a deep breath. The flying papers came to rest in a perfect circle around her feet. "I’m fine, doctor. Whatever happened in the past, S.H.I.E.L.D. would be grateful for your assistance now. We cannot let Hydra get the upper hand in this fight."

"So you’ll help me?"

"I’ll do what I can. Do you have access to a flex screen?"

She explained the dead-drop protocol she'd used to deliver messages when she was undercover. Being as paranoid as he was, Ross had never given Hydra a reason to suspect him, so there was a good chance he’d be able to communicate that way. Which was fortunate, because once she got out of this dream she was never using the box to connect with him again.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. will contact you with further instructions."

"Thank you, Jemma. May I call you Jemma?”

She had to block the malevolent thoughts that crossed her mind before the box could incorporate them into the dreamscape. “I prefer ‘Agent Simmons,’” she said in a careful, even tone. “Dr. Simmons would also be acceptable.”

“Right. I'm sorry. Sorry I waited so long to do the right thing."

"Yes, well, better late than never," she said, the irritation now seeping into her voice. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s about time I woke up.”

She turned and calmly walked out of the lab, holding herself together until she was sure she was out of sight. As soon as she reached the corridor she slid down the wall to the floor, folded her arms on her knees to cradle her head. In truth, she didn’t know how to wake herself up. There was no way to tell how long she’d been asleep or how much longer she had until morning. All she knew was she wanted out. Desperately.

The world went black.

“Hey, hey.” 

Fitz’s soft, worried voice pierced the darkness. She felt a hand on her shoulder and opened her eyes. They were blurry with tears, but she could still make out Fitz’s face, flooded with relief. She pushed herself up against the pillow. Her throat felt scratchy and tight, as if she’d been crying for some time. 

He pulled her into his arms, whispering words of comfort in her ear, and the storm she didn’t know she’d been holding inside her rained itself out. When her breathing finally settled and she felt calm enough to hold herself upright without help, she lifted her head. There were damp spots on his shirt where her head had been. She sniffed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Is it morning?” she asked weakly.

“No, but I had to pull you out. You were sobbing so hard I . . . I couldn’t let you go on like that. What happened in there?” 

She reached for the bottle of water and took a measured sip as she considered how much to tell him. If there was one thing she’d learned in the past few days, it was that there was no sense in dwelling on things in the past that couldn’t be changed. The truth would only upset him and make it harder to do their job. But she’d also promised she wouldn’t keep any more secrets. 

She shook her head, still foggy from sleep. “It’s nothing to worry about. I found Ross. He wants an extraction in exchange for access to Hydra’s communication codes.”

“That’s not all, though, is it?” He searched her eyes, as if he could find the answer behind them. “What aren’t you telling me?”

He gave her a pointed look that said _remember your promise_. So she told him everything she’d learned. By the time she was finished she could no longer guess what he was thinking. His face had become impassive. She’d expected him to lash out or retreat into himself, but he didn’t seem to have any reaction at all. 

"We have to tell the director," he said, at length. "About Ross wanting out of Hydra. He can get started arranging for protection and a new identity."

"Did you hear what I said, Fitz? The man is a coward at best, a traitor at worst.”

“Whatever he did before, he’s trying to make up for it now. That has to count for something.” 

“It's not fair. Why does he get to walk away unscathed, with a brand new life? When so many other people . . . good, brave, loyal people . . .“ She trailed off, unable to continue the thought without breaking down again. 

He tugged her closer, sensing her proximity to the edge. “You’re right. It’s not fair, but we have a duty . . . to protect people. We have to look at the bigger picture.”

“I suppose. But why should he deserve it after what he did? Or didn’t do." 

"Everyone deserves a second chance, Jemma."

And there it was. She thought back to the dream where they’d practiced what they would say to each other in the real world. He’d asked her what she would want him to say. _That you’re all right. That you forgive me._ And he had. She reached out for Fitz's hand and wrapped her own around it. If he could find forgiveness in his heart, maybe she could too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the angst, but they were just too happy there for a little bit and I couldn't help myself. At least they are ready to face everything together.
> 
> By the way, since it's my last chance to let you in on this little tidbit, the title for this story is based on a song -- two, actually -- referenced in recoveringrabbit's amazing AU mystery epic [Murder by Mistake](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3963931/chapters/8890639). The two songs couldn't be more different (one is by Cole Porter, the other by Cyndi Lauper), but the lyrics are quite applicable in both cases.


	8. Fitz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fitz and Jemma have finally reached the end of this mission. They still have a few more things to talk about, as well as a few awkward conversations to have.

Sitting beside her on the bed, Fitz wasn’t sure what to do next. Seeing her fall apart like that had shaken him. She was his rock, never breaking until the danger had passed. So he knew that whatever happened inside that dream had been bad . . . but it hadn’t been anything close to what he’d been expecting. The idea that everything that had happened to them - everything that had happened to _him_ \- could have been avoided if one man hadn’t been a coward made him furious. But looking at the woman next to him, he selfishly thought that maybe it hadn’t all been bad. It was the struggles that had made them who they were, and this path had brought them together.

If this had been one of his dreams - or one of _their_ dreams - he would have covered her body with his and made her forget everything that had just happened. But this wasn’t a dream. It was real. With real consequences. And he couldn’t lose her when he’d just gotten her back. So he waited for a sign to help him know what to do next.

Eventually she relaxed and shifted to her side on the bed - facing away from him. That felt like a pretty clear sign. Even though it was his bed, he considered getting up to give her some space. But then she reached back for his arm, tugging him down beside her and snuggled closer so her back was flush against him and his arm draped loosely over her.

They stayed like that for long enough that Fitz worried she might have fallen asleep, when she finally spoke.

“Fitz, you can breathe.”

“I’m not _not_ breathing,” he insisted, at the same time forcing air into his lungs. He had been struggling to stay immobile, when all he wanted to do was feel her body move against him.

Trying to get more comfortable he moved his arm beneath her so her head was tucked into his elbow, and she shifted her position, wiggling her arse right against him.

He sucked in a breath, not sure what to do. Even though she was beside him, he knew this wasn’t the way to comfort a friend. Or a girlfriend? Was that what she was now? They’d have to talk about that later, but either way he knew that rubbing his hard-on against his best friend probably wasn’t the best move here.

But then she did it again and he let out an involuntary moan, grabbing her hip with his free hand and holding her in place. His lips dropped to her neck in surrender and he kissed the skin there the way he knew she liked. Or he assumed she liked it since she had in his dream.

She let out an answering moan and reached one hand up to hold his head against her and he decided she _did_ like this in real life. It was nice to know that same things were the same no matter if they were awake or asleep. But those dreams had been so perfect, he hoped he didn’t disappoint her.

She continued moving her hips against him in small, irregular movements that drove him wild. She was like a siren luring him to his doom and he was powerless to stop her. In fact, he welcomed the primal desire he felt for her. It gave him a place to channel everything he’d been feeling - all the doubt, all the uncertainty, all the fear that he’d never be enough for her.

She reached for the hand that was holding her too tightly on her hip and guided it towards her breasts. He rubbed his thumb over the thin fabric of her top, feeling the hardened nipple beneath. She pulled up her tank top to give him better access and arched her back, thrusting her breast into his hand.

He caressed her soft skin, feeling his hand tremble as it moved over her body. He cursed himself for this weakness; it was harder to control when he couldn’t focus all of his effort on holding his muscles steady.

“Oh...Fitz,” Jemma gasped as he released her nipple and turned his attention to her other breast. It seemed like maybe she didn’t mind how his hand shook when he touched her.

She was moving more quickly against him now, and he nipped at her neck, eliciting another moan from her lips.

“Fitz, I need you.”

She tried to turn in his arms and he stopped her with an arm around her waist.

“Jemma...it won’t, won’t be the same,” he said into her ear, hoping she understood everything he was trying to say.

“It doesn’t matter. I want you.” She turned to face him and this time he didn’t stop her. “Dreams are just fantasies, but now we know we both want the same thing. This is better. This is real.”

She kissed him lightly on the lips before pulling back again.

“I think we’ll rub along together quite nicely.”

He let out a bark of laughter at her word choice and after a second she seemed to realize what she said and laughed along with him, breaking the tension.

He held up his hand, saying, “We need to switch sides so I can use my good hand.”

But Jemma stopped him and grabbed his hand, kissing his knuckles. “I love every part of you.”

“Okay...then roll over so I can use both hands.”

Smiling, Jemma rolled on top of him, pressing kisses to his jaw. Now that his hands were free he stroked them down her back and then up under her shirt. She sat up to take her shirt off and his mouth watered at the sight of her bare breasts.

“You too,” she said, gesturing at him.

Thinking about the last time they had been in bed together, he sat up with her still on his lap, and she pulled his shirt up. She dragged her lips along his exposed skin and he shivered when her short nails scratched over his stomach and chest. He leaned back again so he was lying down and she was above him.

His hands reached for her breasts, too tantalizing for him to ignore and he considered pulling her closer so he could taste her warm skin, but as his hands cupped her she leaned back, her hands resting on his thighs, and started to grind against him.

He was fully hard now and the ache for her was overwhelming. He distracted himself from the heat of her body and the slide of their remaining clothing as she moved over him by focusing his efforts on making her moan again.

His hands moved to circle her nipples and she pressed down hard against him, his hips moving involuntarily to counter her thrusts. He quickened his pace, alternately plucking at her nipples and soothing her heated skin with gentle caresses.

Her head fell back with a sigh and just as he was about to tell her to stop, her body stilled and she let out a low moan as his fingers grazed the hardened peaks once again.

She looked like a goddess and he wanted to live in this moment forever.

“Condom.”

Jolted from his thoughts, Fitz stuttered, “Wha-? Oh, ah, I don’t have any.”

“I do.”

Then Jemma was gone, looking more clumsy than he had ever seen her. She had somehow managed to trip over her clothes while trying to get her knickers off and then started digging through the bundle of essentials she had brought from her room.

He felt a surge of pride that he was the one making her act so unlike herself.

“Found it!” she said triumphantly, and Fitz realized he hadn’t done anything except stare at her now naked body.

As his eyes met hers again, she smiled.

“Come back to bed, Jemma.”

“Not until you take those off,” she replied, gesturing towards his tented boxers.

He lifted his hips and pushed his boxers down quickly so Jemma could straddle him again. He held out his hand for the condom, but Jemma shook her head at him and instead unrolled it down his length.

He felt like his eyes were rolling into the back of his head. Her touch made his cock twitch in her hand and she tightened her grip on him before guiding him to her entrance.

She sank down slowly and Fitz did his best not to thrust up against her, instead holding onto her hips as an anchor. She was looking into his eyes as she started to move slowly up and down, just as they had done in their dream. But this was different. All he saw in her eyes was love and he hoped she could see the same in his.

Using his grip on her for leverage he moved his hips and shifted the angle, pushing further inside her. She moaned his name and it spurred him on. He hoped she didn’t mind if he didn’t last very long. This was every wet dream - and actual dream - he had ever had all rolled into one and there was no way he’d be able to hold out for long. He could already feel his release building.

Needing to touch more of her, he pulled her down so she was completely on top of him, her head tucked against his shoulder.

“Fitz!” she squealed, clearly not expecting the sudden change in position.

He wrapped his arms around her back and held her against him so they were touching everywhere. Jemma turned towards him to kiss his jaw and cheek before he met her lips with his.

Feeling slightly more in control he moved his hips in rhythm to their kiss. She met his movements and the slow pace he set increased until they were both panting, awash in sensation.

He grit his teeth and tried to focus on something other than how amazing she felt, but failed. He knew he was losing control and released her from his embrace so he could touch her again. They separated just enough for him to slide a hand between their bodies and she cried out when his fingers found her clit, circling it then stroking her sensitive nub.

“Oh, oh, Fitz. So close…”

He gave a last few thrusts before letting go, calling her name as he came, and was relieved when he felt Jemma tense around him soon after.

“That was...that was…” Fitz wanted to tell her how incredible she was and how much he loved her, but all her could do was stammer at her.

“Amazing,” she finished for him.

“Yes, amazing,” he echoed. She hadn’t moved from where she lay on top of him, apparently content to use him as a pillow. Her fingers were moving over his skin - he thought she was tracing the molecular structure of something with a lot of OH bonds - and he had never been happier.

After they had cleaned up, they got back in bed, Jemma’s head tucked into his shoulder and an arm and a leg thrown over him.

“We need to talk to Coulson about Ross and the box,” Jemma said, reminding him of how this night had started.

“We can talk to him, ah, first thing in the morning,” Fitz said with a yawn.

“Of course,” she agreed, “in the morning.” And then snuggled closer into his side.

He stroked her hair as they drifted off to sleep, finally at peace.

“I love you, Jemma,” he breathed quietly into her hair, not wanting to wake her.

But she wasn’t asleep. She gave him a squeeze, yawning and saying sleepily, “I love you too, Fitz.”

The next morning they stepped into the hall, so comfortable with each other that they didn’t even consider it would look strange for them to be emerging from Fitz’s room together, and were met with Skye’s shocked face.

“Did you two spend the night together?” she asked, clearly ready to say ‘I told you so.’

“Of course not,” Jemma scoffed. “I just stopped by before breakfast so we could talk about some tests we have to run in the lab.”

She really was getting better at lying. He might have almost believed her if he didn’t know better. But Skye had a calculating look on her face that made him nervous.

“Sure, that makes sense,” Skye replied with a smile. “But then why do you have a giant hickey on your neck?”

Fitz knew he hadn’t left a mark on her, way too aware of what it would mean for their relationship to suddenly be so public and the ribbing he’d be sure to get from Hunter. But Jemma didn’t know that and immediately slapped a hand over her neck.

Skye’s smile became smug. “I knew it.” Still looking at Jemma she continued, “I told you he —“

“—Skye! I need to talk to you over here,” Jemma interjected, pulling Skye down the hall with her.

Fitz watched their whispered conversation with a frown on his face. Skye kept glancing over at him, at one point giving him a thumbs up.

“I’ll tell you later,” Jemma hissed, a little bit louder. “We really have to talk to Coulson now.”

“There better be details,” Skye insisted.

“No. This is private.” Then, at the look on Skye’s face, Jemma amended, “Okay, some.”

Skye seemed satisfied with that and Jemma grabbed Fitz by the arm and hurried him towards Coulson’s office before he could ask any questions.

Once they reached Coulson’s office, Fitz hesitated before knocking on the door, thinking how everything had changed since the last time he’d been standing here.

Coulson wasn’t expecting them, but was happy to set aside his paperwork when they said they had information about Dr. Ross.

When Jemma had finished her explanation, careful to leave out everything related to the dreams they had shared and making it sound like last night had been the first time she had attempted to use the device, Coulson looked back and forth between the two of them. Then in his no-nonsense tone said, “Good work you two. Now never do anything like that again.”

Fitz was surprised. He thought Coulson would be happier that they had gotten the information after all. That this mission wasn’t a complete disaster.

“But sir,” Jemma insisted, “once we realized what the device did, it just make sense to try to make contact.”

“It could have been dangerous. I expect more from the two of you. You should have brought it to me rather than just using tech you didn’t understand.”

“But we do understand how it, ah, works,” Fitz jumped in, not wanting Jemma to take all the blame herself. “You wouldn’t have let us use it contact Ross if we’d asked anyway.”

“So, you admit to going behind my back?” Coulson asked, though he seemed to be amused by this conversation rather than upset with them.

“Of course not,” Jemma insisted, “I would _never_!”

“So it was Fitz, then?” Coulson asked, shifting his gaze back to Fitz.

“N-no, I wouldn’t put Jem, er, Simmons in danger.”

Coulson looked thoughtful at that.

“We were just doing some testing to better understand how it worked and I ended up contacting Dr. Ross. Scientific process and solid experimental design.”

Fitz exchanged a glance with Jemma. Hopefully Coulson wouldn’t ask them for any details, because even though they knew _what_ the box did, they had no idea _how_. But he seemed willing to let it go.

“The next time you have an idea for an op, make sure you run it by me first,” Coulson finally said.

Sufficiently chastised, but without an ounce or regret, they slipped out of his office and into the lab, where they found a box of samples waiting to be processed. They worked together seamlessly, like she had never been gone and their relationship hadn’t shifted into uncharted territory.

When he finally fell asleep that night it was with Jemma in his arms. Reality was so much better than any dream. He was looking forward to telling her that in the morning.

But then he saw he was back in his dorm room at the Academy with Jemma. He hadn’t been expecting to see her here - the actual her anyway - but then realized she must still have the communication device.

They were sitting side-by-side on the bed and he knew what he needed to do.

“So, we ended up here again,” Jemma said with a smile.

“This is where it all began.”

Jemma looked around the room for a moment as if lost in thought. “It isn’t quite as I remember.”

“It didn’t seem relevant to recreate it exactly. This is how I choose to remember it.” At her look he relented, “Oh, fine. I seem to remember you turning flowers different colors. How did you do it?”

“You just have to focus on it. Consciously decide to change something, rather than letting your subconscious fill in the details.” While she explained, she shifted her gaze towards the ceiling and suddenly there were snowflakes falling around them. “Just like how you decide to move your body in the dream.”

Fitz closed his eyes and thought about how the room had really looked when he was a student. A pile of dirty laundry appeared in the corner and the papers on his desk rearranged themselves into disarray.

“That’s better,” she said with a laugh, placing her hand above his knee nonchalantly. But he could feel the tension radiating from her. Even now. Even after all the years, all the dreams, and all the reality. He made her nervous. Which was good because she made him nervous too.

“So, Simmons, what are your plans after graduation?”

She started tracing circles on his knee.

“I don’t know. No one has asked me to do anything yet.”

She shifted next to him so she was facing him, her hand drifting higher on his thigh.

“Would you like to go out with me? On a date?”

His palms were sweaty.

“I was hoping you’d ask me, Fitz.” Jemma moved closer to him so she was almost in his lap. “I’d love to.”

They moved together, then, and their lips met in a gentle kiss. It felt sweet and innocent, like he would have expected from their awkward, teenage selves. But then her hand moved to his belt and the spell was broken.

“Jemma, we were 17. This never would have happened.”

Leaning close to his ear, she whispered, “It’s a dream, Fitz. Just go with it.”

She swept her tongue around the shell of his ear and he forgot to care about how unrealistic this scenario was.

When they finally came up for breath, he asked the question he’d been needing to since that night they’d spent together in the motel.

“Since you agreed to go out with me, does that make you my girlfriend?”

She studied him for a minute like she was trying to understand why her experimental results weren’t what she was expecting.

“If you want.” He tried to push down his disappointment, but then she grinned at him. “But I thought it felt like it might be more than that.”

Later, after they woke up, he’d remember to tell her he thought it was more than that, too. They had the rest of their lives to figure this out. But for now he let her push him down on the bed and focused on showing her how he felt instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have reached the end of this fic. Blanca and I had a blast writing it and we wanted to thank you for reading! 
> 
> ...and if you are feeling as sad as we are right now, don't worry. We started writing a "thing" this week. It has most of the holiday tropes, so it should be a bunch of fluffy (also smutty) fun :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Updates will be posted every Friday.
> 
> Come shout at (with?) us on Tumblr! We are @LibbyWeasley and @blancasplayground!


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